


To Have a Home

by anomalation



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mickey beats the shit out of Kash, Past Rape/Non-con, They semi-adopt a kid, Yep nothing but fluff here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2576390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalation/pseuds/anomalation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of Mickey and Ian scenes from five years after S4. Mickey learns who his family is and Ian is basically just the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have a Home

“Hey, Mick. I have an idea that you won’t like,” Ian says out of the blue, already apologetic.

“What?” Mickey frowns. Ian does have these crazy ass ideas sometimes, but they’re rarely bad enough to make him even fucking hesitate.

“I think you should talk to Svetlana.”

Mickey sits straight up, looking back at Ian in absolute disbelief. “You’ve gotta be fucking joking.”

“I’m not, just hear me out-“

“Nah, I think I’m fine. The fuck are you thinking?”

“I want to be engaged to you,” Ian says firmly, loudly. “Okay?” He takes advantage of the silence to continue in a rush, words bumbling together. “I want you and her to get a divorce so that we can have a chance. So we can get married, if you ever want to ask me. Or if you want me to ask you.”

“Of course… I mean, Jesus Christ, Ian.” Mickey digs his knuckles into his eyes. “Christ. We just got this place, we just got…” He just got settled down, started to feel used to this safety and hint of a routine in their shitty little apartment. But he can’t say that. That’s too pathetic, even to tell Ian.

“I know,” Ian says, taking one of his hands and holding it in both of his. Looks like he might even have tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know. I love you so much, and I know how being near her makes you feel. But I’ll come with you, and it’ll just be for a second. Please. Just long enough to get divorce papers signed.”

Mickey loves him so fucking much back, it’s unbelievable. Every time he tries to pull away, Ian coaxes him right back. They both know he doesn’t mean it. So he takes a second, quiet and just theirs, and thinks. “When you wanna go?” he finally says. “If we go.”

“I don’t care.” Ian scoots closer, to lean over him and kiss his shoulder and neck. “Whenever you want.”

“I don’t want to,” Mickey says irritably. “You’d better set it up. And if you’re not coming with me, I’m not going. Just… fucking… do whatever you want to do.”

“Thank you,” Ian murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s just… not here, okay? Not in our place.” Their little apartment together that’s barely got a bed for them to sleep in, let alone anything else. It’s safe, though. It’s safe and she’s not coming in it.

“I promise,” Ian says, kissing his shoulder again. “Thank you.”

Mickey nods uncomfortably, and then gets up and heads to the kitchen. “What you want for dinner?” he asks. “Pizza rolls?”

“Sure.”

Ian’s supposed to eat healthy. It’ll help him stay okay, with his meds and the push ups he does early every morning. Mickey knows it, but they can’t fucking afford it. This apartment cost too much, and getting their own place was crucial. But Mickey’s gonna go without beer this week because he bought Ian spinach and avocado and tomatoes so he can have a Goddamn salad.

When he brings it out to Ian, it’s kinda disappointing to see Ian sigh. “What’s that for?” Ian says.

“It’s for you.”

“Why aren’t you having any?”

“Cuz you’ve gotta eat this shit and we can’t fucking afford enough for both of us, Ian,” Mickey snaps, and walks out onto the balcony to smoke. He needs a fucking smoke right now, it’s feeling itchy in his skin.

He’s not great at sacrifice to begin with. It doesn’t come natural to him to give up something now that he’s just got a piece. And of course he’d do it for Ian, it’s just he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do when it’s not appreciated. He can’t take it back, and he doesn’t want to. Fuck, it’s just whenever Ian gets a little petulant like this, Mickey’s never sure quite what to do. So he stays back and tries to let Ian figure it out on his own.

When he’s half into his second one, Ian says from the door, “Mick.”

“The fuck do you want.”

“Can you stop being so fucking... I mean look, you don’t like this shit either.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a fucking doctor telling me to eat it, Ian. I fucking… I’m not… I just want you to be okay. And you made me feel like such a fucking dick about it, why did you do that?”

“I dunno.”

Mickey sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. “You don’t know. Right. Okay. So am I just supposed to sit here until you _do_ know?”

“No-“

“Just eat it, Ian,” Mickey says quietly after a second. “Alright? We all gotta do shit we don’t want.”

“Since when did you become my babysitter?”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re making me eat and watching my every move-“

Mickey hates this. He hates fighting with him. It’s too much. “Fuck this,” he says. “Don’t fucking do this to me. I’m not gonna stop caring about you. You don’t like this, get the fuck out.”

“Fine,” Ian spits out, and he goes. Literally walks out of the house without taking his pills or eating or fucking anything and Mickey’s terrified in the first minute of him being gone. God he’s so scared, he’d get really drunk if he could. But he spent all his Goddamn money on Ian, so he’s got to smoke and do his fucking damnedest not to cry. Fuck, he’s gotta steal some liquor.

When it’s dark and Ian’s not back yet, Mickey finally makes himself something to eat even though he’s really not hungry. He gets in bed and ends up reading a dumb fucking book Ian left on his side of the bed, just for something to do so his head doesn’t explode.

He needs to get liquor, pick up their TV, find them some more furniture, get some more soap for the shower. He should try to work more, convince the old fuck that owns the garage he works at that he should get more hours. He has to take care of Ian, even when Ian won’t let him. But first he’s gotta figure out exactly how the fuck he’s supposed to do that.

The front door clicks around ten, and Ian sulks inside. Mickey doesn’t wait for him to talk first. “Take these,” he says, holding out Ian’s pills.

Ian takes them.

Mickey’s not sure what else to say. He looks back down at the book and tries to figure out what he’s going to do. Fuck.

“Hey look, I’m sorry,” Ian begins.

“Great.”

“I should’ve taken my meds on time.”

“Oh, is that the only fucking thing you’re upset about?”

“Don’t yell at me,” Ian says in a tiny voice.

Fuck, he’s not stable right now. He’s really supposed to take those at the same time every day. So Mickey shuts up and lets Ian curl up under the covers next to him. He has to say something though, he just does his best to be gentle about it. “You can’t just walk out,” he says.

Ian doesn’t say anything.

“I know you’re hurt and I’m sorry if I had anything to do with that. But fuck Ian, I’m doing everything I can. C’mon, man, help me out,” Mickey says. He puts his hand over Ian’s hair then, rubbing a little in a circle. “Please, Ian. Work with me. I just… I want to make you happy. Babe. C’mon.”

Ian crawls over Mickey’s lap, putting his head in his lap, and he wraps his arms around his waist. “I love you,” he says quietly.

“Okay. Love you too, fucker. Even though you worried the shit outta me tonight. You eaten anything?” Mickey asks, scratching the nape of his neck

“No.”

“Have something to eat real quick, alright?”

“Okay. Come with me?”

Mickey gets up and follows him to the kitchen. He almost feels like laughing, from how anticlimactic this whole thing is. Ian left, and now Mickey just leans against the doorjamb and watches Ian make some toast.

“Hey, Mick?” Ian asks while he’s eating. “Why’d you stop stealing stuff?”

“Cuz I thought you didn’t like it,” Mickey says impatiently. “You got a problem with that too?”

“Nah, just…” Ian shrugs. “I don’t mind. Long as you don’t get caught.”

“Okay. Noted.”

“Just… you’re making it harder on yourself, I think, than it has to be. But I appreciate you trying to be legit.”

“Okay.”

Ian glances over at him from his spot by the sink. “You’re really pissed at me.”

“Yeah, I fucking am,” Mickey admits easily, crossing his arms. “The fuck do you expect from me? You walked out on me, Gallagher, again. So.”

“I just needed some space.”

“Well get it without fucking running away. You don’t get to do that.”

“I just meant…”

“Do you want to not be around me? Is that what you mean?” Mickey says abruptly. “Cuz if you don’t want me to be around, then you can just say so.”

“I want to be around you,” Ian says. “That’s all I want. It’s why I moved in with you. All I want is to be around you, the fuck are you talking about? I’m not that upset. Do _you_ not want _me_ around?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid. I’m pissed cuz you left, not cuz you’re here too much,” Mickey mumbles. “You just… y’keep leaving me, Ian. That’s what… that’s the problem. Or whatever.” Mickey scrubs his hands over his eyes and avoids looking at him. He doesn’t know how Ian will react.

Ian comes over to him, kisses his cheek and hugs him tightly, even though Mickey doesn’t hug back at first. “I love you,” Ian says, “I’m sorry. I’ll always come back.”

“Okay.” Mickey hugs him back and kisses his neck. “Don’t forget your meds next time, okay? You’re all out of whack, you’re gonna be moody for a while.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Love you too. You need anything, I’m gonna be here.”

Ian ducks his head closer. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Mickey kisses his cheek. “You really think I’m babysitting you?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not good at being taken care of,” Ian admits really quietly. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

Mickey blushes. “I’m gonna hit up a liquor store tomorrow after work,” he says. “Anything you want?”

“Nah, I’ll just have a shot of whatever you get. You have good taste.”

“Thanks.”

They stay there, in each other’s arms for a while, until Ian says, “I’m gonna go to bed. Will you come with me?”

“Sure.”

Ian holds his hand all the way there, which seems like it might be some sort of additional apology. He curls up in bed and Mickey holds him from behind. He kisses the back of his neck and pets his side a little. He’s not used to touching Ian like this, just to touch him and love him, but he enjoys it so much. Ian’s beautiful anyways.

“You wanna do anything?” Mickey murmurs after a bit. “Blowjobs, or…”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks, though.” Ian pulls Mickey’s hand over to his and links them tight by his mouth, to kiss his knuckles. “I like you so much,” he says. “I like being around you so much. I’m sorry I keep disappointing you.”

“You don’t, nah, you don’t. Don’t be stupid.” Mickey kisses him. “That’s probably that negativity, the doctor was talking about, y’know? You have to recognize that and stop it. You don’t disappoint me.” He rubs Ian’s hand with his thumb. “You never do.”

“M’kay.” Ian hunches up a little, and Mickey holds him tighter.

After about an hour, Mickey’s ready to drift off, but Ian’s not asleep. Mickey’s plans on waiting, in case Ian wants to say something, and minutes turn into hours and somehow it ends up being two and neither of them are asleep. It seems awkward to break the silence, but then he feels Ian start to cry.

“Ian, baby,” Mickey whispers immediately, voice rough. He pushes up and turns Ian onto his back to look at his face. Ian resists hard until he just gives in and falls onto his back, covering his face with his hands. “Ian,” Mickey sighs, more amused than anything else.

“I’m fine, I… I had a bad dream-“ Ian begins.

“Did you even go to sleep, though?”

Ian sniffs deeply. “Maybe,” he says, muffled into his hands.

Mickey tugs Ian’s hands off his face and kisses him right in the middle of his forehead. “Ian,” he says. “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on. You having another depressive episode? Is that coming on?”

“No, no, it’s not like that. It’s all mixed up, though. Like I feel guilty and sad and not… not enough, for you, I guess, but I can’t stop thinking. Like, I know you do love me and everything but I’m going through everything over and over in my head and I can’t stop. It’s all mixed up, I don’t know…”

“Why you crying?” Mickey asks.

“I don’t know. I’m sad, I’m sad I left you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Mickey kisses him once. “It’s okay, I was totally fine. I’m tougher than that. Don’t stress out about me, just feel good. I just want you to feel good.”

“Well I can’t do that when I’ve been an asshole to you,” Ian cries, looking annoyed but laughing a little too. “I’m sorry. That probably seems crazy to you. but I really do care about you that much. I hate making you upset because you don’t ask me for a lot, and I know that you deserve way more than what I give you most of the time. I’m trying, though, to be good enough for you, and I’m sorry that I keep hurting you with my craziness.”

“Shut the fuck up. You aren’t crazy, Ian. You’re so… so sweet. And you are good to me, I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. Yeah? You know that, don’t you? Sometimes when you say something nice, I get weird about it. You don’t make me upset, Gallagher. Okay?” He pulls him closer, kissing his forehead again. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”

“Love you,” Ian mumbles, blushing hot.

“Try not to be sad, please?” Mickey adds quickly. “If you can.”

“I dunno.” Ian snuggles closer into him. “Maybe you could kiss me some more.”

Mickey was already going to kiss the side of his head, but instead he just mumbles against it, “Making fucking demands now, tough guy?” And then he kisses him anyways, his hair and cheek and where the tears are drying on his cheek. “Ian,” he says. “You don’t have to be good enough for me. You’re better than me by miles, moods and all. And I can handle moods. I can handle anything you throw me.”

“Okay.” Ian presses their foreheads together and breathes slowly. His eyelashes tickle Mickey’s when he blinks. “Do you think I look good?” he says. “I know I’m not as built as I used to be, but I think I’m still…”

“You’re absolutely fucking fine,” Mickey tells him. “You’re beautiful, man. Always liked the way you looked. Red hair, and fucking…” He kisses Ian’s cheek. “Freckles. Y’know. Love that. Not about the size of your arms.”

“Freckles,” Ian repeats happily.

“Yeah. You got ‘em fucking everywhere. Like tiny little sparks on your shoulders and shit, kiddo. I like ‘em.”

Ian smiles and closes his eyes so Mickey can keep kissing him, so Mickey does. He kisses his dusting of freckles and notices for the first time that he’s got some on his eyelids. He keeps noticing new things about his boyfriend.

He’s more than a boyfriend, though. They live together, they’re planning on being together and neither of them can picture having a future without the other. Everything is so solid and permanent and more than he’s fucking had before. He doesn’t have a word for it, but it’s definitely fucking _not_ boyfriend. Boyfriend was them three years ago. And there’s only one step further he can think of.

“Ian, will you marry me someday?” he asks very quietly. He almost isn’t sure if he wants Ian to hear him, until Ian turns and grabs his face to kiss him so hard he can’t breathe.

“Yes, of course,” Ian breathes softly. “Please, yes.”

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Mickey smiles. “I don’t know when, alright, we still gotta talk to Svetlana and I’m gonna buy us a house, y’know. Soon. But I want you to be… want us to be… more. Y’know.”

Ian kisses him again. “Every time I think you’ve given me everything, you come up with more to give. I love you so fucking much, Mick.”

“Love you too, so much.” Mickey kisses him again, and runs his fingers through Ian’s hair. “You think you can sleep now?”

“I’ll try. For my fiancée,” Ian kisses Mickey quickly, short and dry, and smiles at him so soft and innocent that Mickey thinks he fell in love with him all over again right then.

“Thanks, y’fucking sap,” Mickey says, but he thinks he’s probably smiling back similarly. “You don’t disappoint me,” he says again. “Nothing about you is disappointing.”

Ian curls up again, putting his face in against Mickey’s chest this time. He doesn’t say anything but he falls asleep in five minutes, and Mickey kisses his cheek and tightens his arms before following him.

 

“Hey, I’m home.” He feels stupid saying it. He always does. It’s really cheesy, for one, and also stupid to announce you’re home. Like who even really cares that much? But it always makes Ian light up with a smile, even if he can see him walk in himself, like he can now.

“How was your day?” Ian smiles from the couch.

“Y’know.” Mickey goes to the fridge and gets a beer, comes back and sits next to Ian, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Yeah, just grading some stuff. I ordered us pizza.”

“Sweet.” Mickey turns on the TV, or tries to. Ian’s hand covers his on the buttons.

“I’m not gonna get a kiss?” Ian says, eyes warm.

“Sure.” Mickey kisses him, nice and easy. Kissing him feels like being home, more than this place. Ian’s his home, and they’re so fucking lucky. Or he is, for sure. It’s a little house they were able to afford, a few streets over from their old neighborhood. But it’s theirs, and it’s more than Mickey thought he’d get.

“Nice to have the TV working,” Ian remarks after a moment.

“Yeah.”

“And I think we have enough shit. Feels homey,” he continues, sounding proud. “We even have a fucking guest room.”

“With your family, we’ll fucking need it.”

“Hey.” Ian kisses the side of Mickey’s head. “Mandy too.”

“Duh. But you know I’ve got a fucking point.”

“Don’t even start. You love having them around,” Ian murmurs, lips still in his hair.

Not too long, Mickey would’ve pulled away. Out of itchy fear, or this fear of emotional intimacy Ian keeps mentioning. But this is _their_ Goddamn house, and Ian loves him. So he leans closer to Ian and admits, “Yeah. They’re not too bad.”

“Debs got in trouble for bragging that her uncle Mickey taught her to throw a punch,” Ian tells him next. “She was threatening to dent someone’s skull, I think.”

“Good for her.”

“As long as you taught her how to not get caught.”

“Of course I did. She’s smart, though, she’s fine.” Mickey sneaks glances at Ian’s papers until he works up the guts to ask, “So what are you grading?”

“Worksheets. Spelling, and then there’s the math tests. It’ll be a late night.”

“That’s fine.” Mickey hesitates before suggesting, “I could help.”

“Thanks,” Ian snorts.

“No, I’m fucking serious,” Mickey frowns, half-offended. “I could. You’re supposed to let me help you with stuff, right?”

“Well, yeah. But do you really want to?” Ian asks curiously.

“Sure. Y’know. Whatever you fucking want. I mean it.”

Ian smiles and kisses his cheek, pulling him closer. “You’re so sweet,” he says. “You take such good care of me.”

“Damn straight.” Mickey holds Ian in place by the back of his neck when he starts to pull away and kisses him fiercely. “Gimme some of those fuckers.”

“Okay. I have the answer key here, and a red pen for you, so it’ll be easy.”

“Alright.” Mickey takes the stack of math tests and starts the first one. He tries not to be crazy self-conscious about his handwriting, but his voice is a little rough when he asks, “This good?”

Ian looks it over. “Sure, yeah. That’s good, too, writing comments. Maybe circle where they messed up. Okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

It’s nice, sitting next to him and helping him. Everything is, with Ian, but this is particularly great. Mickey feels settled, deep in his bones. The doorbell startles him, but only for a second. “I’ll get it,” he says, waving off Ian’s attempts to pay. He pays the pizza boy and only feels smug that the kid might put it together, that he and Ian are together. In fact, he’d love it, because he loves him.

“You want a Coke?” Mickey asks.

“Sure, thanks.”

Mickey gets him one, and grabs some paper plates and a roll of paper towels while he’s at it because Ian likes to keep things clean. He gets Ian’s pills, too, because he likes to help with that. Show him he doesn’t mind this shit even now. “Hey,” he says as he’s coming back.

“Hey yourself.” Ian looks up smiling, though, and only makes a little bit of a face at the pills. “Oh, thanks.” He holds out his cupped hand and Mickey drops the pills in his palm. He can swallow them dry by now but he still grimaces.

“Sure. How are your kids?” Mickey asks awkwardly, sitting back down. He puts some pizza on a couple plates and gives one to Ian.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Mickey glances over to find Ian smiling at him. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask about my day when you won’t talk about yours. If we’re gonna share, we’ve both got to. Gotta share that too, okay?” Ian brushes his fingertips over the back of Mickey’s hand.

“Well what the fuck d’ya want me to say?” Mickey says through a mouthful of pizza.

“I don’t care. But one word answers aren’t gonna cut it if you want more than that back.”

“Being fucking lectured by a kid,” Mickey grumbles. He makes it through the first slice in about a minute, but then Ian takes his chin and wipes some sauce off with his thumb. Mickey’s stunned into silence.

“You still eat like a teenager,” Ian tells him. “Like Terry’s gonna come take it from you. And nobody’s gonna do that, y’know. Love you too much.”

Mickey doesn’t know what to say. He takes a deliberately slow bite, and Ian laughs at that, giggling and trying to hide it. “Sorry, sorry, c’mere,” Ian says and kisses him. “Sorry, that was really weird to say. I just meant you looked like the guy I met.”

“Course I do. I’m the same fucking guy.”

“Well, then I was _trying_ to tell you that you’re safe now. Or remind you, I guess is what I mean. Sorry, sorry. Never mind.”

Mickey gives him a long suspicious look, but goes back to watching TV. When he’s done eating, he leans back to grade some more papers. Still, everything Ian’s said is rattling around in his head. It takes a good ten minutes, but he finally gets something out in response.

“Some kid came by asking for a job,” he says. “Fourteen, maybe. Thought… well, I thought he might be one of yours. Charlie McMann?”

“No babe, I’ve got ten year olds.”

“Oh.”

“Why, though? Why’d he want a job?” Ian clarifies after a second. He’s still eating, licking his fingers clean lazily.

“Dunno. But I can’t have a fucking kid working on cars. Right?”

“Oh, for sure. But why, did you want to hire him?”

“Fuck no. Almost gave the kid some money though, he was fucking… skinny.”

Ian looks thoughtful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Dunno. Not like every parent around here would get an A fucking plus,” Mickey shrugs uncomfortably. He’s not even sure what he means, but he’s found that giving Ian the pieces can help him put them together.

“So you think he’s got bad parents?”

“Well… yeah. I’d know all the fucking signs, right?”

“Yeah, sure you do,” Ian nods, quietly encouraging. “So what did you do?”

“Told him to fuck off. But he’ll come back.”

Ian nods. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

That’s it. That’s the question he needs answered. Mickey just shrugs, though, settling in against Ian again. “Dunno,” he takes a swig of beer. “What would you do?” he asks, trying to sound very casual.

“Um.” Ian considers, shifting so they fit together better. “I’d probably feed him. If he comes back. And I’d make up shit for him to do, probably.”

“Why, to pay him for not doing shit?”

“To help him learn a skill. And hey, if he’ll respect anyone’s advice, it’ll be fucking Mickey Milkovich. Am I wrong?” Ian squeezes his arm, kisses his hair again. “And we’ll be okay with twenty bucks less.”

“What, you think I could fucking… help?”

“Sure you can. I know you want to either way,” Ian adds in a conspiratorial whisper. “Cuz you’re a fucking good person, and you always want to protect. In fact,” Ian leans even closer. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Mickey still doesn’t know how to respond to direct statements like that. The way he sees it, knowing is enough. Saying it is overkill. But Ian loves overkill – loves _him_ – and tells him that at least once a day. Mickey just kinda blushes and says, “Jesus, Gallagher, I get it.”

“Okay,” Ian reassures him.

“How could I help?” Mickey asks after a second. “Bring you there so you can fucking… _talk_ to him about this shit?”

“Uh, no. This kid came to you, I’m guessing he doesn’t exactly want to talk.”

Mickey nods. “Huh. Good point.”

Ian kisses the back of his head. “But you don’t have to talk to get shit done.”

“Okay.” Mickey picks up those tests again and grades four in a row without saying anything. He does want to help cuz fuck, he’s an adult with a great job and an even better fiancée. What’s the fucking point if he doesn’t make someone else’s life better, some little grubby kid whose dad has him scared to exist too, maybe. “Ian,” he says.”

“Yeah?”

“How… how’d you do it? For me,” Mickey asks very quietly. “Not the… the sex and everything.”

Ian drops all his tests and turns to hug him tight, kissing behind his ear and squeezing him tight. “I didn’t do anything. You did. I just tried to give you somewhere safe to do it.”

Mickey pulls free to turn and kiss him on his own terms. “You fucking did it,” he says. “Come here.”

Ian smiles into the kiss, big hands skimming up and down Mickey’s sides. He’s just big and warm and strong and he’s here with him and for him. Mickey kisses Ian with everything he’s got, fingers at the nape of his neck because Ian likes that.

“You’re terrible for my concentration,” Ian eventually says.

“Then stop me,” Mickey teases. He does stop after a little bit, though.

“For real, though,” Ian says. “Do whatever you want. You can bring him home if you want.”

Mickey kisses him again because he can’t help himself. “Go to hell,” he says.

“Love you too.”

They finish the tests and worksheets, and Mickey gets up for another beer. “Hey babe, could you put this in the fridge?” Ian asks, pointing at the pizza box.

It’s bullshit. Who cares if shit is in the fridge? But Ian cares, so Mickey does it without complaining. It’s not shitty, anyways, to have things kinda clean. Fuck, everything’s nice with Ian.

“Hey, so I’m gonna shower,” he says after his beer.

“Okay. Leave your clothes outside the door, I’m doing laundry.”

“Sure.”

Domestic shit, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to have someone washing his clothes and caring about leftovers. It’s nice to be able to care about that shit too. He thinks he has enough extra caring to help one shitty kid.

 

Charlie shows up the next day, skulking around the door of the garage until Mickey says, “Y’gonna come in or what?”

“Will you give me a job?” Charlie asks.

“No,” Mickey glances at him. “Can’t hire a kid,” he says. “Why do you want a job anyways?”

Charlie comes in and leans against the car Mickey’s working on. “Dunno.”

Mickey examines him in several glances. He’s a skinny little kid, with light eyes that stick out in his dirty face. He could be a fucking Milkovich, with the ripped clothes and a bruise on his arm. “Don’t fuck with me,” he says. “Specially if you’re asking me for something.”

“Why, will you let me-“

“No. Not until you tell me why you want a job. You wanna buy booze? Or-“

“No, I’m not stupid.”

“Fucking right you aren’t.” Mickey puts down the wrench and leans on the edge of the car, looking at the kid. “What, then?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want the job for, c’mon.” Mickey scratches his forehead. “Don’t fuck with me. I told you that. Really don’t. Either be upfront or get the fuck out. Y’hear me?”

Charlie nods, so Mickey turns around to get another tool. “I wanna make money so I can move out when I’m eighteen,” Charlie blurts.

Mickey turns back around slowly. “Okay,” he says, stalling. “Ever worked on cars before?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“How old are you?” Mickey has to ask.

“Thirteen.”

Mickey sighs. “Jesus Christ. If you got hurt, I’d be sued into next century.”

“My parents wouldn’t care,” Charlie says quietly.

Mickey sighs so deeply. He practically is a Milkovich, fuck.  “Whatever,” he says. “Can’t have that on my conscience.”

“I won’t get hurt,” the kid insists. “I’m careful.”

“You’re a kid,” Mickey says, but he doesn’t mean it. Charlie just looks at him. “Jesus, okay, look. You see that carburetor on the bench? Fix it. Then we’ll talk. Tools in the top drawer, directions…” Mickey goes and gets them from the office drawer. “Okay? I’m closing up at five, you have till then.”

“Okay.” Charlie sits and studies the direction sheet. He’s got about an hour. Mickey knows he won’t finish it, but it’ll keep him occupied while Mickey figures out what the fuck is wrong with this damn Chevy.

He finishes himself around quarter to five. He’s wiping off his hands, very satisfied with himself, when he finally registers how unusually quiet the kid is. “Hey,” he says. “You okay? How’s it coming?”

Charlie sniffs deeply. “I’m not done,” he says. “I didn’t…” He wipes his face quickly.

Fuck, he’s crying. “Hey, that’s fine,” Mickey says. “Look at me. It’s fine.” On impulse, Mickey bends over and gives him a one-armed hug from behind. “It’s fine,” he says again. “Don’t freak out. We’ll figure something out, alright?”

“Okay,” the kid says, quiet and very still.

“I’ll show you. Okay?”

Charlie nods. Mickey shows him, walking him through each step. He’s a little too impatient sometimes, short when Charlie screws up, but he’s not bad at it, he doesn’t think. He feels worst for nudging the kid’s arm when he fucks up. That’s a fucking step away from hitting him, and Mickey will never do that. It works, though. It’s okay.

Mickey’s phone rings as they’re finishing. It’s Ian. “Hey babe,” Mickey answers. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Helping a kid put together a carburetor.”

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, I’m coming back, like fifteen minutes. Okay?”

“Sure babe. Hope you had fun.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Should’ve said he loves him. But another time. Next time.

“Does this mean I have a job?” Charlie asks.

“Nope. But you can come back. Get outta here, I’m closing.”

Charlie hesitates. “Thanks,” he says. “For helping.”

“Nah, you did all the work. Scram, I gotta get home.”

The kid goes, and Mickey looks up and hurries home. Ian’s waiting for him in the kitchen, loading their dishwasher. “Hey I’m really sorry,” Mickey begins.

“No, it’s fine. I took my pills, it’s totally fine.” Ian kisses Mickey’s cheek and then his lips. “How was the kid?”

“Yeah, it was fine. He helped me fix a carburetor.”

“Alright,” Ian smiles. “Cool. I made spaghetti. And garlic bread.”

And salad, Mickey notices. “Alright,” he says. “Really sorry.”

“Not a big deal.” Ian gets out ice cream after too, and it’s dumb but Mickey feels incredibly flattered and taken care of. Ian kisses him at the kitchen sink. “Do you want to go out this weekend? Nick says he misses us.”

Mickey smiles. “Sure, if you want.”

“We could even go back to the club, if you want. Or just go straight to his place.” Ian has his arms around him, kissing his cheek until he blushes. “You pick.”

“I really don’t give a shit, Ian,” Mickey insists. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you.” Ian nips a kiss near Mickey’s ear.

“Oh yeah?” Mickey teases back. “Lemme shower first.”

“Don’t want to.” Ian’s relentless. “Right now, against the table.”

Mickey pretends to sigh. “Fine, but no complaining about the table getting dirty.”

“Never.” Ian dashes off to get the lube and fucks Mickey over the table, arm around his waist. He carries Mickey to the bathroom afterwards, and kisses him against the bathroom sink. “You’re amazing,” he says.

“Stop it.”

“I’ll be in the bedroom,” Ian says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, lemme shower,” Mickey says gently, running his hand over Ian’s short hair. “How was your day?” he remembers to ask.

“Good,” Ian smiles. “Thank you for asking.”

“Sure.”

“We’ll talk more later?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Ian kisses his forehead. “You’re amazing,” he says firmly.

Mickey blushes and nudges Ian until he leaves. He knows the first thing he’ll say – in fact he practices it in the shower. It’s worth it, though, for how Ian lights up when Mickey tells him, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Okay,” Mickey says with half a smile.

Ian kisses him as they settle in bed, and wraps his arm around him. “So you have a soft spot for kids,” he says.

“I guess. Whatever.” Mickey snuggles in. Having their own place is amazing. He can cuddle and let himself be cuddled without being scared they’ll get walked in on. He can let Ian take care of him for a little while. It’s so fucking nice.

“Nah, it’s not a bad thing,” Ian murmurs. “I like it. Maybe if we ever have our own kids…”

Mickey’s heart skips a beat. “How would that happen?” he says gruffly.

“I dunno,” Ian shrugs. “But if we do, you’ll be a great dad.”

“Wouldn’t go that far. But I’d try. Wasn’t too bad today, I think,” Mickey adds.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Not easy to fix one of them. And I think he’s coming back.”

“Good, cool.”

Mickey pulls a cigarette out of his pack on the bedside table and flips it between his fingers a couple times. Ian likes him to smoke by the window, so he doesn’t light it just yet. “Y’think… is it… my kid. Would you want him? Or…”

Ian is quiet at first. He pulls Mickey closer and says softly. “No. Unless you do.”

“Nah, I was just… I mean, if you really want kids…”

“No babe, no. Not that much, not like that. I mean he’s probably… a reminder. Right? Of the worst…” Ian kisses his hair, keeping his face nuzzled in. “This is our home. You and me. I want you to feel safe, okay? You deserve it. I don’t want a kid that way.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. We’ll figure something else out.”

Mickey is relieved. He leans up and kisses him. “We could fucking… adopt. Lotta kids on the South Side nobody wants.”

Ian doesn’t answer right away. He presses Mickey down onto the bed sideways, and hugs him around the neck. “I want you,” he says. “I’ll always want you.”

“Okay, okay. Get off me, Gallagher,” Mickey mumbles. “I get it.”

Ian plants one final kiss on his forehead and gets up. “Sorry babe.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Mickey gets up and sits by the window to smoke. It still smells like the streets he grew up on outside, and that settles him, too. Some things haven’t changed. He could walk to the Alibi Room if he wanted to.

“Hey,” he says to Ian. “What about the rest of your family? How they doing?”

“Good. Lip loves his job. Comes up on weekends to see the kids. Fiona’s working at that club, she finally started doing stuff right. And the kids are still in school, so.”

“That’s good.”

“Right? The Gallaghers are finally getting their lives in order. What about Mandy?”

“She’s good, I think. I dunno, she’s not exactly calling. I think she’ll be back in a few weeks.” Mickey shrugs. “Probably happy, though.”

“She could stay there,” Ian says quietly. “You know that, right? I’d be happy to have her here.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Mickey stubs out his cigarette and gets back in bed.

“Don’t, she’s family, of course she’s welcome.” Ian hugs him close.

Mickey nods. “Okay. Sorry, I’m bad at this.”

“No you aren’t,” Ian says dismissively. “You used to never apologize, remember? You said it was pointless because it didn’t fix anything. But you’ve said sorry like a dozen times tonight.”

“Well. It’s different with you.” Mickey pats Ian’s chest. “So.”

“So you trust me?” Ian says with a small smile.

That kinda shit makes Mickey want to run, but he can control that. He recognizes it as being really fucking irrational and doesn’t let himself pull away. “Course I fucking do,” he says.

“Me too.” Ian kisses him. “Bed?”

“We’re in it.”

“Okay. Fuck you.” Ian grins and pokes his side. “You ready to go to bed, fucker?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Ian turns off the light and flops down on his side. He does this sometimes, giving Mickey space if he wants it. It’s really fucking sweet, but Mickey always cuddles up right next to Ian, throwing his arm over him and finding his hand to hold. “Love you,” Mickey says softly.

“Love you so much, Mick,” Ian says contentedly.

Mickey kisses the back of Ian’s neck and loves him. He loves him so much. Everything else comes second. No fucking contest. He thought maybe this feeling would fade by now. It’s been years. But it’s still just as strong, burning in the pit of his stomach whenever he even thinks about Ian. It’s engraved in his soul.

“I’d love to have a kid with you,” Mickey whispers.

Ian squeezes his hand. “In time,” he says. “When we’re both ready.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. You’ll be a great dad, Mick. You deserve to pick how you have kids and when, so we’ll pick together. And as far as I’m concerned, you have no obligation to a kid you never wanted. You were forced. It’s not your fault, that you don’t want him. Okay?” Ian kisses the back of Mickey’s hand. “We’re gonna have consensual children in our own time.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Believe me?”

“Yeah. Of course I do, yeah.”

“Okay.” Ian kisses his hand again. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Mickey scoots a little closer. Ian’s a little too warm, but he doesn’t care.

 

“Special delivery for Ian Gallagher,” Mickey calls out. He feels so fucking stupid until Ian lights up like the fucking sun.

“Hey babe,” he says. “Thank you so much.”

“No big deal.” Mickey accepts a kiss from him. “Take your shit.”

“Yeah, I did. C’mon, let’s eat.”

“I’m gonna have some of those leftovers, actually,” Mickey says. “Don’t really dig that rabbit food shit.”

Ian frowns. “Really? I thought you picked it up special for us.”

“Nah, for you. Okay?”

“Yeah.” But Ian’s frowning.

“Are you pissed?” Mickey asks.

“No…”

“What the fuck, Ian. Yeah you are.”

Ian shrugs tersely. “Just drop it.”

“Why? I picked up your favorite food special, and you’re pissed I don’t like it?”

“No. I’m not. Thanks, really,” Ian gives in. “I’m an idiot.”

“Okay,” Mickey says, sitting down warily next to him.

“Really, I’m serious. I’m not pissed at you, I’m sorry. Okay?” Ian takes Mickey’s hand. “You’re the absolute best. But for the record, this isn’t shit.”

“Right, sorry.”

Mickey’s stiff the rest of the night. He knows it’s stupid, but fighting with Ian still scares him, like maybe Ian will figure out this isn’t worth it and split. Fuck, the guy should get some kind of award for dealing with Mickey for so long. He knows being distant just gives Ian more of a reason to leave, but he can’t help it. It’s reflex. So he does pull away when Ian tries to hug him close on the couch.

“C’mon, Mick, are you really that pissed at me?” Ian sighs. “I know I was being an idiot.”

“’M not pissed at you,” Mickey says uncomfortably.

“Well, you’ve been pulling away all night.”

“Yeah…” Mickey’s not sure what else to say. “So?”

“So why? What’s going on?”

“I dunno. I don’t want… don’t want to fight with you,” Mickey admits softly.

“Okay. And we didn’t really. I was dumb and disappointed, and you-“

“No, see, I don’t want that either. Disappointed.”

“It was totally stupid,” Ian says firmly. “I wasn’t disappointed with you.”

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure he buys it.

“I’m serious. You’re beyond amazing, you always go out of your way to make me happy. I’m sorry I ever made you feel any differently. Really, Mickey. Please, don’t pull away from me for dumb shit like this. Really.” Ian smushes his lips against the side of Mickey’s head.

“Okay.”

“Really!”

“Fuck, okay. I believe you. Jesus.” Mickey does turn to kiss him, though, and holds him close around the neck. “You don’t have to say all that shit, though. I’m just… don’t want to fuck up and lose you. Or anything. I mean, if it takes eating a fucking yard-“

Ian laughs and cuts him off with a kiss. “No,” he says. “Don’t change for me. You got me, and you’ll keep me. Understand?”

“Not really,” Mickey mumbles.

“Fuck you.” Ian kisses him again. “Does all this mean nothing to you?”

“Means everything.”

“Okay. Well stop acting like I could ever leave it easier than you could. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I know,” Mickey says, smiling despite himself. “Don’t have a heart attack.”

Ian pulls him in awkwardly close against his chest. “Only when I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

“Get out of here. Turn on the game, we’re gonna miss it.”

Ian turns on the game and keeps Mickey in against his side anyways. That feels pretty good, to be wanted so plainly. It’s fucking reassuring, is what it is. So after a bit, Mickey wrestles Ian into submission to hold him in against his chest so he can kiss his hair.

“We’re okay,” Ian says in bed that night. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Duh.” Mickey shrugs. He’s still glad, though, when Ian holds him tight against his chest, links hands with him just like always.

“Sorry. I never asked how your days was,” Ian murmurs, kissing his hair.

“Nah, it’s fine. We worked on an old Mustang. Changed some times.”

“You and Charlie?”

“Yep.” Mickey was planning on bringing this up, actually, but he gave up on that. Now… now he’s not sure. So what the hell. He asks. “What would you think about him having dinner here sometime?”

“Babe, I’ve been waiting for you to ask that. Whenever you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I mean it,” Ian squeezes him tighter. “Whenever you want.”

“You said that. I get it.”

“Well, I’m just making sure. If you even want to tell him we’re just friends-“

“Bullshit.”

He feels Ian smile against his neck. “Okay.”

“Go to sleep. We can talk later.” Mickey squeezes Ian’s hand tighter. “G’night.”

“Night.”

 

Mickey’s changing some headlights when he notices someone lurking at the open garage door. It’s Charlie, who hasn’t been around for a couple days. “Hey,” Mickey says. “The fuck you been?”

“I dunno.”

“The fuck you don’t, c’mere.” Mickey wipes his hands off on a rag and then crosses his arms to glare at him. “If you really wanna work here, it’s not just a show up whenever you want kinda deal.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t,” Charlie says meekly.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Mickey asks. Nobody ever fucking asked him. Not till Ian.

Charlie shrugs, and then mumbles. “Ma locked me in a closet.”

“For three fucking days?”

“Forgot I was in there after Dad came back.”

Now that sounds familiar. Mickey is lost for words for a second. Before he’s figured out what to say, he’s ducking into the office to grab his lunch bag and toss it to Charlie. “You want dinner at my house tonight?” he asks, bending back down to look at the car so he doesn’t have to watch Charlie’s face.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. If you help me with all the shit I have to do today. But first eat.”

Charlie devours the food and then helps Mickey all day. He glances at him increasingly often as five comes closer and then even more while they’re closing up. “Do you still… still want me to come over for dinner?” he finally asks.

“Sure,” Mickey says. “Long as you don’t mind walking there.”

“Okay.”

It’s a quiet walk to their house. Mickey’s thinking of a million things to say and reevaluating each one, ends up staying silent. He thinks Charlie’s nervous. And then suddenly, as they’re on the last few steps up to the front door, Mickey’s nervous too. He should’ve asked Ian. Fuck.

Ian still lights up when he sees him. “Hey. Oh, who’s this?”

“Charlie. Y’mind if he eats here?”

“Nah, of course not.”

Mickey ducks his head in a bashful nod and then says, “Uh, this is Ian. My fiancée.“ He loves that word, the in between-ness of it and the permanence it implies. Commitment, and attachment and an actual relationship. Boyfriend wasn’t serious enough.

He doesn’t even remember to check what Charlie thinks at first. Ian comes over to them and smiles a little before Mickey remembers to look. “What, that some kinda problem or something?” he says defensively, putting his arm around Ian.

Charlie blinks a couple times. “No…”

It’s probably a lie, but whatever. “Wash your hands in the kitchen,” Mickey tells him. Once Charlie’s obeyed, he finally looks at Ian and relaxes. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Ian smiles back. “Can I…”

“Course, c’mere.” Mickey lets Ian hold him around the waist and kiss him. “You sure this is really okay?” he asks. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

“It’s fine. I made mac and cheese. And salad.”

“Great. Let’s get the kid to eat that,” Mickey grumbles but kisses him again.

“I’ll give him carrots.”

“Nah. Prob’ly good for him.” Mickey kisses him again and then pulls back.

“They’re good for you, but that’s never changed anything before,” Ian teases. “Hey, finish the Hunger Games. We’ve got the movie for a couple more days.”

“Alright, damn. Sorry I’m not a fucking speed reader,” Mickey grumbles, letting Ian lead him to the kitchen table. “And sorry I’m so fucking gross today, spilled oil,” he explains as Ian sits him down and motions Charlie into another chair.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Ian brings all the food to the table and then sits himself across from Charlie with Mickey in between them. “Oh fuck, what do you guys want to drink? Beer, I know,” he corrects himself, smiling at Mickey. “But what about you?”

“Beer?” Charlie says hopefully.

“Nice try. How about Coke?”

“Okay.”

Ian gets both of them their cans and himself a glass of that green tea shit the doctor suggested. “Alright, dig in,” he smiles then. “Take whatever you want, you don’t have to be gentlemen now.”

“Do I have to have that?” Charlie asks timidly, pointing at the salad.

He’s asking Mickey, but Mickey has no idea what to say so he turns to Ian. “Only a little,” Ian says. “It’s better than it looks. And you can have as much mac and cheese as you want.”

“Okay.”

Dinner’s oddly quiet at first. Ian just looks between him and Charlie, like he expects them to start the conversation. Finally, he does it himself. “So how was it today?”

“Pretty good. That chick Kev referred is basically having me replace half the engine, so that’s nice.”

“That’s good, can you do it?” Mickey nods. “Sweet. So that’s a chunk of money.”

“Yeah.”

Ian tries with Charlie next. “So what grade you in?”

“Just started high school.”

“You gonna drop out?”

“No,” Charlie says defensively. “I’m getting out of here.”

Mickey smiles a little. “Y’know, he sounds like you,” he tells Ian.

“I guess.” Ian makes a face. “Though look where that got me.”

“Hey. Fuck you, is where it got you. Sleep on the fucking floor, dumbass. Where it got you.” Mickey sips his beer.

“Well, I never said it didn’t have a beautiful view,” Ian teases, looking very smug.

“Damn straight it does,” Mickey says firmly. “Lot better than that gay-ass West Point.”

“Not gay enough,” Ian snorts.

Mickey grins, then looks over at Charlie. He looks really meek. “Yo, something wrong?” he asks, already defensive. Probably too defensive, he’s just a kid.

“No,” Charlie says instantly.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Mickey looks to Ian in frustration, but Ian just says “Toldja. He’s probably not a talker. Which, it’s not exactly like you are either. It’s alright.”

“I fucking… I know.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Charlie speaks up. “What did he tell you?”

“I said anybody who’s hanging out with Mickey probably isn’t that keen on casual conversation,” Ian says easily. “It’s just that ever since I got involved, Mick has started trying to talk and stuff. He forgets he wasn’t always this functional.”

“Why, what was he like?” Charlie presses.

Ian looks at Mickey with complete warm affection and answers. “He was quiet, and fierce as hell, and he ran the other way whenever anyone tried to be nice to him. Cuz I think it’s hard to remember people just want to be nice when most people aren’t nice to you at all.”

“So fucking poetic, Gallagher,” Mickey mumbles.

“Am I wrong?”

Charlie cuts in. “Wait. What do you mean?”

“He means I was a lot like you as a kid, a long time ago. Okay?” Mickey snaps. “That my dad tried to kill me twice when he found out about us, and if he ever gets out of prison again, he’ll try a third time. And if you think he was right about any of that shit, then you’ve gotta go.”

“Mick,” Ian says. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t think you dad was right,” Charlie says, looking down. “I don’t have a problem with…”

“With us being gay?” Ian encourages.

“Yeah. So. I mean, I’ll still go.”

“Don’t,” Mickey says. “You don’t have to. We probably have some good shit once you’re done with that. Ice cream or something.”

“With Snickers,” Ian nods.

“Yeah. Okay?” Mickey asks.

Charlie nods. “Okay. Th-thank you.”

Mickey doesn’t let himself blame himself for scaring Charlie. He has to defend his own, and Ian’s practically another piece of Mickey’s own heart, walking around on its own. But he does feel bad when Charlie adds, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Mickey asks.

Ian rolls his eyes and nudges Mickey’s arm. “Don’t be a dick, c’mon. Charlie, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mickey agrees. “Nah, it’s fine. You don’t have to go anywhere. I… I’m sorry, guess I overreacted.” Ian smiles at him proudly, and Mickey flushes. Still feels weird apologizing to anyone that’s not Ian.

When he looks at Charlie, though, it’s kind of okay. The kid is this mix of happy and nervous and amazed. “It’s okay,” he says.

“Okay.”

Mickey finishes before them, so he gets up and starts cleaning up, dishes and putting shit back in the fridge. When Ian’s done, he brings his plate to Mickey and starts to help. “Nah, I’m good. You go work on your shit, I’ve got it,” Mickey says.

“Alright. Thanks, babe.” Ian kisses his cheek before leaving the kitchen.

After a second, Mickey imagines he can feel Charlie’s eyes on him. “So it’s not that bad, right?” he says. “I don’t like this health shit either, but it’s not terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“You’re real fucking quiet,” Mickey says after a second. “Say it, whatever it is.”

“Well, which one of you is the girl?” he blurts.

“Neither, dumbass. We’re both guys. That’s kinda the point.”

“Yeah, but which… are you, like, _more_ of…”

Charlie’s trailed off, so Mickey turns around and looks at him. “What’d I just say? It’s not like that, we’re equal. We got each other’s back and we’ve been through hell together. I love the fuck outta him, okay?”

Charlie nods.

“Okay. Long as you get all that you can come around whenever you want.” Mickey turns back to the sink then. “We’re pretty fucking boring though,” he says half to himself. “He’s got me reading and shit.”

“Can I be gay?” Charlie asks next.

Mickey doesn’t know what to say. “I dunno,” he says. “You like guys?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s not easy. You gotta be sure. You need somebody with you, too. But… look, you can be happy with a girl too. It’s just I wasn’t.”

“Is he the only…”

“He’s the only one for me,” Mickey shrugs. “But that doesn’t mean you need a guy too. What the hell, you’re too young to worry about that shit. You done eating yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring me your shit then,” Mickey moves to make room for Charlie and then says, “Ask Ian how much ice cream you get.”

“Okay.”

Mickey finishes the dishes and ends up next to Ian on the couch while Charlie eats on the floor. Ian pulls him closer and snuggles in. “You took your pills?” Mickey asks him quietly.

“Yeah. It’s totally cool, babe, you didn’t fuck anything up.”

“You never shut your damn mouth, do ya.”

“Nope.”

Mickey has to smile. “Nope,” he repeats. “You’re annoying.”

Ian kisses him hard and pulls him close enough to double his arms around Mickey. He’s still holding him like that when he asks Charlie, “You need anything else?”

“No, I’m okay,” Charlie shakes his head. “Thanks for… like everything.”

“Sure.” Mickey shrugs. He’s there only a little longer before he says, “I’m gonna shower, babe.”

“Oh…” Charlie stands up with him.

“Nah you don’t have to go. I’ll be back in like ten minutes.” Mickey pushes him down gently. “You don’t have to go,” he says again.

“Okay.”

Mickey lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay.”

Ian grins. “Get in the shower, dork.”

Mickey flips him off, but he obeys. When he gets out, he’s really relaxed and just happy. He always feels so content here. Ian’s waiting for him, as he always is, and this time Charlie’s also in the living room, sleeping on the floor.

“Hey,” Ian says quietly, motioning him over onto the couch. “He just passed out, I don’t know. I thought I should leave him for now.”

“Okay.” Mickey steps over Charlie on the floor and curls up against Ian. “Prob’ly needs it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ian kisses the top of his head.

“Mom locked him in a closet for three fucking days. Dunno if he ate anything, or.” He sighs. “Fuck, I’m not the right person to do this.”

“Sure you are,” Ian corrects him. “You know where he’s coming from. You’re a sweet guy, you don’t try to push it. And you’re so fucking protective, I love it.”

“Stop. I’m fucking… awkward, and insensitive, and I might hit him. What if I hit him?”

Ian lays Mickey down and leans over him on all fours, smiling a little. “Babe,” he says. “You’re never going to hurt your kids. You’ll never hurt any kids, because you are a beautiful, loving man who’s gentle, kind, and protective. Okay? You’ll never hit anybody you care about, I swear it.”

“But…”

“You’ve never hit me.”

“Fuck no, I could never do that, come on,” Mickey says softly, putting his hand up to pet the side of Ian’s face. He’s so fucking pale, with those freckles. He’s so fucking beautiful. “I couldn’t hurt you.”

Ian leans down and kisses him, running one hand through his hair. “I know,” he says. “That’s my point. You care about me, you won’t hurt me. Simple.” He kisses him again and it seems like he might never stop.

“No, but it’s not,” Mickey has to say. “Maybe it’s in my fucking… my DNA or something. Y’know, Terry-“

“Stop it, stop. You are nothing like him.”

“Well fuck yeah, I know that, but… maybe I won’t have a choice,” Mickey mumbles. “Maybe I just…”

“You have a choice, always,” Ian insists. “You do. And you made it when you decided to love me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mickey mumbles, flushing.

Ian kisses him. “I love you so much, Mickey. Come on. You don’t have an abusive bone in your body,” he says convincingly. “And I think you’re just fantastic. Okay? Don’t stress. And Charlie can sleep here on our floor as long as you want.”

“Fuck, I dunno. Should we wake him up so he can go home?”

“You think he wants to go back home, though?” Ian says.

Mickey sighs. “Come here. Down here, hug me.” It’s so nice to be able to just say that, not to be scared of it any more. He can ask for what he wants. And Ian gives it to him. Ian hugs him from behind and lets Mickey sandwich him between him and the back of the couch. So Mickey’s looking at Charlie on the floor and feeling Ian’s breath on the back of his neck. It’s nice.

“I love you,” Ian says again.

“Oh fuck, sorry. You too, I love you too. Sorry I didn’t say it back.”

“No, it’s not-“

“I know, but I’m still sorry. Should tell you every fucking second,” Mickey mumbles, lacing his fingers with Ian’s. “You’re so amazing.”

“You do, babe, with every… touch. Every time you look at me.” Ian kisses the back of his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” Mickey tells him. “Fucking unreal.”

“Love you, babe.”

“Love you too, Ian.”

Mickey could fall asleep just like this, but then Ian speaks up. “Should we put him in bed?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it, you go to bed.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you go.” Mickey sits up, rubs his eyes. He smiles and kisses Ian when Ian offers, and then asks him, “Yo. How the fuck do I do this?”

“However you want. Wait, though, I’m gonna put blankets and a pillow on the bed.”

“Okay.” Mickey sits on the couch for a minute while Ian does the bed. He ends up picking up Charlie under the shoulders and knees, holding him easily against his chest. God, the kid’s small.

Ian is still finishing when Mickey brings Charlie to bed, fixing the blankets and fixing the pillows. “Y’think he’s hurt?” he asks quietly.

“Nah, probably not too bad.” Mickey hopes that. “It’s good, thanks.”

“Okay.” Ian laves after kissing Mickey’s forehead, and Charlie twitches in Mickey’s arms. He’s totally awake, but Mickey puts him in bed anyways, and pulls the blankets over him.

“Need anything, kid?” Mickey asks quietly.

Charlie pretends to be asleep still.

“’M not gonna make you leave cuz you’re awake. You want a drink or something, the bathroom’s just down the hall. Only other door. So. Night.” He turns to go.”

“Wait,” Charlie whispers.

Mickey turns around, sighing, but he’s not really annoyed. “What.”

“Is this really okay?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”

Charlie just peers up at him. “This is nice. Is this someone’s room?”

“Nah, spare room. It’s fine. Unless you wanna go home.”

“I’ll stay. But…”

Mickey sits on the edge of the bed when Charlie’s been quiet for a while. “I’ve got my fiancée in our bedroom, kid, and I don’t mind being here instead but you should probably say something. Really, what is it?”

“Nothing, it’s nice. It’s just… like… why?”

“Cuz you need somewhere to sleep. And I did too. It’s okay, just sleep. We’re just down the hall.” Mickey awkwardly pats Charlie’s leg. “And don’t even think about trying to pay us back or-“

Charlie sits up and hugs him. Mickey’s stiff for a second before he kicks himself and hugs back. “It’s fine,” Mickey mumbles, patting his back. Charlie doesn’t say anything, so Mickey shuts up. He can feel him trembling. And fuck, it seems right, so Mickey kisses his hair. “Kid.”

“Can I live here?” Charlie whispers.

“I wish,” Mickey says on accident. “Look, if it gets bad, you come here. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Okay. Need anything right now?” Charlie shakes his head. “Okay. G’night.”

“Night.”

Mickey stands up and turns off the light. He closes the door quietly and stays there a second before going into his bedroom. He jumps on Ian in bed, smiling at his fiancee’s giggling, and says “The kid says thanks.”

“You’re so fucking adorable. My guy’s a softy,” Ian says in his ear, turning them and covering Mickey with most of his body. Mickey loves when he does this, bears him into the mattress with his weight, and he thinks Ian knows that. He can’t remember if he told him.

“Yeah, I guess.” Mickey just breathes for a while. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“About Charlie?”

“No, like in general. You still feeling good?”

“Sure, I feel fine. I think I got the right mix now. But you know that.”

Mickey shrugs. “Look. I’m just making sure.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Cuz y’know you don’t always tell me, Ian,” Mickey says, kissing Ian’s shoulder. “When you’re hurt. And I get it if you can’t, but.”

“No, yeah. I understand. I don’t mind being asked. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Ian gets off him after a bit and lies down on his side of the bed. Mickey doesn’t lie down right away, though. He gets that Hunger Games book and finishes it with Ian sleeping so close he can feel his chest expanding with each breath. Ian’s not sleeping, though. Mickey realizes it when he stops paying attention to the book. Ian’s faking.

Mickey turns off the light and lies down, circling his arm around Ian’s waist and kissing his hair. “Hey, sleepy,” he murmurs. “What’s up? You can’t sleep?”

“Nah,” Ian sighs.

“What’s up with that? Y’tired?”

“No, I dunno. Can’t stop thinking.”

“Can I do anything?”

Ian turns towards him, scoots down to bury his face in the crook of Mickey’s neck. “Can we get married soon?” he asks. “I wanna wear your ring.”

“Sure,” Mickey manages.

“Can I pick them?”

“Do whatever you want to.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mickey kisses his hair. “Try to get some sleep, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Mickey holds him until his breaths even out and he drops off. He lets himself fall asleep then, and holds him all night.

 

After a couple more weeks of Charlie coming home with Mickey for dinner every so often, he’s starting to feel like he belongs. He even meets Mandy one Friday night. He’s actually using their shower when she shows up.

“Ian here?” she asks as she walks in the door.

“Nice to see you to,” he snorts.

“In the shower?” Mandy continues, pointing at the closed bathroom door.

“No, he’s getting salmon for dinner. You staying? Should I call him about it?”

“God, you’re too fucking domestic.” Mandy plops down on the couch next to them and ends up kinda leaning against him. “How you two doing, though, really,” she asks. “He’s okay?”

Mickey answers her honestly; they’ve stopped the bullshit recently, and it’s so much easier. “He’s great. Meds finally working for him. He likes this teaching gig, God knows why. And turns out I’m actually a fucking great mechanic, so. I’m providing for us and shit.” He thinks for a little bit. “Stopped smoking mostly, cuz. Well. Cuz he asked.”

“Fucking whipped, man,” she smiles at him.

“Fuck you, is what I am. Fucking happy.” He hesitates before asking, “You too, though? You’re… you’re okay?”

“I’m happy,” she nods. “We got an apartment together. Haven’t tried to sleep together yet, and it’s been a month. And Lip’s way less of an asshole, so.”

“That’s great,” he says sincerely. “You got a job?”

“Yeah, working at some fancy fucking lotions and soap store near the place. I’m a whole new girl, can you tell?”

“Nah. Still look like the same ol’ slut,” he teases, and throws his arm around her. “Good, though. Milkoviches coming up in the world or whatever.”

She looks over at him. “You don’t mind me talking to Svetlana, do you?”

“Do whatever you want,” he shrugs.

Mandy nods then, and drops it. He forgot that she’s that fucking awesome. ”So who’s in the shower?” she asks then.

“Some kid, nightmare family. Y’know the deal.”

“Engagement has turned you into a fucking saint,” she smiles.

Charlie comes out then, hair sticking up in every direction. It’s strawberry blonde when he’s clean, but he’s definitely a tan little motherfucker. He bounces out to them and then sees Mandy and frowns a little. “Who’s she?”

“My sister Mandy. Mandy, Charlie. C’mon,” Mickey adds when Charlie doesn’t move. “You can still sit down.”

“Okay.”

Charlie takes up his spot on the ground in front of Mickey on the couch and looks back at him to make sure everything’s okay. Mickey ruffles his hair and makes eye contact with him. “It’s cool, man,” he says.

“Okay,” Charlie nods, and he’s totally relaxed then. He watches the show with them and Mickey avoids Mandy’s knowing eyes.

Ian’s back maybe ten minutes later. “Mandy,” he says happily when he sees her, and she jumps up to hug him. Charlie watches them and Mickey does the same kinda too. It’s so fucking convenient that his fiancée and sister love each other so much.

Mandy wrinkles her nose and pulls back. “Fuck man, you smell like fish.”

“Yeah, you wanna come help make dinner? The boys are useless,” Ian says with a happy smile at him.

“Fuck you, babe,” Mickey says.

“Whatever.” Ian comes to kiss him. He really does smell like fish, but Mickey doesn’t mind.

“You want my help, for real?” Mickey asks him.

Ian shakes his head. “Nah. Thank you, though.”

“Yeah.”

So after about an hour, Mickey’s having dinner with three of his favorite people in the world. His dinner table is full. And he’s so fucking happy.

Charlie tugs him aside after dinner and asks in a tiny voice, “Did, um. Is she staying? Because that’s okay, I don’t have to stay if you don’t have the room or anything.” He chews on his nail anxiously, waiting for the answer.

“Nah, we got the room. I dunno if she’s staying, though, sometimes she shacks up with Ian’s family.”

“Oh okay.”

“I don’t care, I’ll sleep on the couch to make everybody fit, alright? You got a bed here if you need it. And I know you said Fridays are tough.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So we’re good?”

“Yep.” Charlie nods, looking shifty. “It’s… thank you.”

“Don’t, it’s cool.” Mickey pats his shoulder awkwardly. “I’ll find out from her, though. And I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.”

Ian and Mandy are giggling at the sink together, and Mickey smiles seeing them. He comes up behind Ian and kisses his cheek. “Hey. Mandy, you staying tonight?” he asks.

“Nah, I’m with Lip at the Gallagher’s. Thanks, though.”

“Okay.”

Mandy grins at him. “You’ve got a little family,” she says. “Like it?”

“I guess,” Mickey mumbles into Ian’s shoulder. “Whatever.” But he has. And he does.

 

It’s early December and coming up on another Christmas. Their first in this house, first where everything is nice and finally good. Mickey finally has Christmas plans, like finally showing Ian how to make those cookies his mom used to make for Christmas. He’s always been too scared of that, maybe that final vulnerability would be too much. He doesn’t talk about his mom. But he might now. Maybe a quiet night when Charlie’s asleep in his room and they’re up late again, just talking. Maybe.

It’s looking to be one of those nights when he gets a call from Mandy. “Hey,” he answers.

“Hey. Don’t hate me, I’m sorry, but I have to ask.”

“Okay…”

“Bank came and took our house. Svetlana and the kid don’t have anywhere to live. They just need a couple nights. I’m just asking because-“

“Lemme ask Ian.”

“Are you serious?” she asks after a beat.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll call you back in a couple hours at most.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Bye.”

Ian’s on the couch and Mickey is nervous for a few seconds about doing what he wants to do. But Charlie doesn’t mind them being together, and Ian loves him. So Mickey walks straight to Ian and curls up right against his side.

“Hey,” Ian says in surprise. “Are you alright?”

“Dad’s house got foreclosed. Svetlana is homeless. Mandy asked if she and the kid could stay with us,” Mickey says.

“Holy shit, Mick.” Ian immediately turns to face him and takes his hand. “Mickey. Shit, I’m sorry. What’d you say.”

“I said I’d talk to you about it.”

Ian mutes the TV. “Well fuck, what do you want me to say? I’ll be the bad guy and say no if you want.”

“Can’t leave them fucking homeless, can I? What kinda ex-husband will I fucking be? What kinda dad?” he adds after a second. “I mean shit, she’s a whore for five years, just stopped. How’s she supposed to get him somewhere to live right away.”

“What kind of timeframe are we talking about?”

“She said less than a week,” Mickey shrugs, sounding weaker than he’d like. “I dunno. I’m not sure.”

Ian just holds his hand tighter. “You’re a fucking good person and I can’t believe you’re even considering this but if you say yes, then it’s a yes from me too. It’s totally your call.”

“She’s not as bad,” Mickey shrugs. “She stays the fuck back from me. But I don’t want her in our bedroom. And the kid…”

“Okay. You don’t have to do this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. But I feel like I should. Couple days, to get her feet under her. Just her and the kid. And you kick her out after a week. Right?” Mickey looks up at Ian to check. “And you back me up if something happens.”

“Always.”

“Okay.” He sighs and tries to remember how good he felt ten minutes ago. “Shit, Charlie, sorry,” he says after a second, looking down at the couch cushion. “You have any questions?”

“You have a kid?” Charlie says in a small voice.

“Yeah. But he’s not my… I didn’t want him. I mean I help her out, I give her…”

Ian kisses his hair. “Nobody’s saying you’re a shitty dad,” he says quietly.

“Okay.”

“Is she nice?”

“Lana?” Mickey snorts. “No. She’s tough. Fucking hardcore. But she won’t fuck with you or anything.”

“Oh.” Charlie looks at him for a long time. “Why you scared of her?”

“Because his dad used her to hurt him a long time ago,” Ian answers firmly. “We don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Mickey already feels like shit. He doesn’t need this compound shit of Charlie looking scared too. So he says, “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t know. C’mon, get up here.” He pats the couch next to him, and Charlie does climb up next to him. “Sorry,” Mickey says. “We’re just… lotta shit has happened.”

“It’s fine.”

“She mostly speaks Russian,” Mickey says. “Some Polish, I think.”

Ian kisses him. “I’ll stop her from doing anything.”

“She should pay for her food,” Mickey says. “We can’t… well. When she has money, I mean. But.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry about this,” Charlie says. “I’m gonna go home tonight, okay?”

Mickey can’t even argue with that. “Sorry. Yeah. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Mickey pulls him in for a hug. “Sorry,” he repeats again. “Ian, can you call my sister? Tell her.”

“Sure.”

The rest of the evening is kind of a haze of anxiety. Mickey goes through all the motions of cleaning up after dinner and watching TV with Ian after Charlie leaves, but he’s scared stiff. He’s not sure he hears anything until the doorbell.

“I’ll get it,” he hears himself say, because _shit_ he doesn’t want Ian near Svetlana.

“Are you sure?” Ian asks, holding Mickey back by the hand.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Mickey shakes him off and just gets the damn door. His ex-wife is standing there with his kid holding her hand and a bunch of bags at her feet. He doesn’t hate her anymore, but she still makes his stomach twist up. “Hey,” he says.

“Bags or kid?” she says.

He doesn’t trust himself with his kid right now, so he picks up the bags and heads inside. “You can have the guest room,” he says. “But I’m not getting up with the kid at night or staying in to watch him. And I don’t want any shit about Ian and me, alright?”

“Sure,” Svetlana says, but she somehow manages to make it sound sarcastic.

Whatever. He takes the bags into the spare bedroom and she follows him in. “I don’t mind this,” he lies, “but it can’t be for too long. You gotta get outta here, okay, this is our house.”

“I know that,” she says.

Fuck, it’s so uncomfortable to have her behind him, but he can barely look at her either. He glances up at her. “We, um. Ian’s going shopping tomorrow, whatever you and the kid need to eat he’ll pick it up. Just tell me, I guess. But no fucking in here, and no fucking guests or anything.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t leave your shit everywhere.”

“Sure.”

“Just like that?” he asks.

“Would you like me to argue?”

Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. Fine. Ian showers in the morning before school, don’t fuck with that. And knock before coming in our bedroom. Alright.” He leaves, refusing to look at her or his kid or anything.

Ian’s waiting on the couch with a beer and hug that Mickey tries not to shrug off but kinda does anyways. “She’s not giving you trouble, is she?” Ian asks.

“Nah, it’s fine. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Ian mumbles.

“No it isn’t. It’s totally fine. Can we just… I’m gonna go to bed, now.” Mickey gets back up again with the beer, restless and just annoyed at everything. Ian follows him, sitting in bed while Mickey goes to the window and smokes two cigarettes in quick succession.

“Mick, we should talk about this,” Ian says. “Please, babe.”

“We’re talking.”

“No, I mean it. Babe, talk to me, you’ve been so distant ever since Mandy called, and I’m worried about you. Why did you even say yes?”

“Because she’s a fucking kid. She’s younger than you, Ian, and she’s gotta deal with her own fucking kid and this fucking… language barrier shit. I mean, you think this is where she wants to be? Jesus fuck, I don’t know what the fuck you expect me to do, leave her out there?”

“I don’t know,” Ian says steadily. “You’re pretty empathetic for a guy who was raped by her.”

He still hates that word. “She didn’t… I don’t think that was her fault, though. She didn’t fucking pick that either. Right? I mean. My dad’s a bastard, a hundred percent, he would’ve shot her if she didn’t fuck me. And it doesn’t make it any better, but shit, Ian, can I really be pissed at her for this?”

“You have been so far.”

“No, not pissed. Just fucking… makes me think about it.”

“Okay. Share that with me, then. I just want to be involved, Mick.”

“Well excuse the fuck outta me if I’m not the fucking best at that, okay. Didn’t really plan for this situation.”

“You think I did?”

Mickey grinds out his cigarette. “No,” he says after a long pause. “No, I know you didn’t. I just… I want to handle it for you. And I don’t think I can.”

“It’s okay,” Ian promises. “It’s totally okay, c’mere.”

Reluctantly, Mickey gets in bed and sits in front of Ian. “ Okay,” he says. “What.”

“Have I said I love you recently?”

Mickey tries not to laugh and rolls his eyes. “You’re the lamest fucking person in the universe, Gallagher, the fuck.”

Ian smiles back. “Love you,” he says. “I trust you and I do feel taken care of by you. And your kid’s really cute. Yev.”

“Don’t fucking say that shit, man,” Mickey sighs. He takes both of Ian’s hands. “He is, though. I think… I don’t know what I think.”

“Okay. Well, you wanna make out for a while?” Ian suggests.

“Sure,” Mickey sighs. “Horny kid. You wanna fucking dry hump too?”

“Maybe. Not ruling it out.” Ian leans forward and presses his forehead against Mickey’s for just a second. “I love you,” he says. “You’re okay.”

“Love you too,” Mickey murmurs. “Did I do the right thing?”

“You definitely did,” Ian says. “You do the right thing so much and so consistently is completely shocks me, okay? I love it.”

Mickey sighs again. “Okay,” he says. “C’mere.” He kisses Ian and then hugs him tightly, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Love you so much, baby.” He kisses him again then, and pats his side. “I feel like I should go check on her,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay. Proud of you.”

Mickey tries not to smile and fails. “Go to hell.” He gets up and changes first, though, pulls on sweatpants and one of Ian’s cut up Army shirts because it makes Ian smile. “You want anything?” he asks.

“Nah,” Ian says. “I want you to be happy.”

“Working on that.”

Ian sticks out his tongue and Mickey flips him off before going back into the hall. He knocks on the doorframe awkwardly. “Hey,” he says. Svetlana’s unpacking in pajamas and her robe, their kid asleep on the bed already. “Y’got everything you need?”

She looks at him suspiciously for a long moment. “We’re fine.”

“Sorry for trying to fucking help, Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, yes. I’m very much appreciating this charity from you. Definitely not concerned about what you want in return,” she snaps.

“What I fucking _want_? I don’t want shit, I’m doing this cuz you’re my fucking ex-wife and that’s my fucking kid. And I don’t want you on the damn streets. Alright? Jesus, the fucking suspicion,” he sighs in exasperation. “How old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty-two,” she says.

Fuck, she was sixteen when they got married. And he was nineteen, it’s not like that was much better, but fuck. He feels so fucking guilty. “So he’s six now. Must be talking by now, right? Lemme guess, all Russian?”

“Mostly Russian,” Svetlana says. “Some Ukrainian. And English.”

“You speak Ukrainian?”

“No, but you should.”

Mickey digs his knuckles in his eyes. “Look, can you drop the hostility for half a fucking second? Maybe we can grow out of that since we aren’t fucking teenagers anymore. And I’m giving you a fucking place to live for a week. So. Whatever. Goodnight.” He turns to go.

“I have a list,” she says. “Of groceries. And I’m making dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay. Well, you don’t have to.”

“What’s the angle?” Svetlana asks.

“No angle. Is it that unbelievable, that I’m trying to be a good person? Jesus Christ.” He turns to leave again and makes it to his bedroom door when Svetlana says from behind him,

“Thank you.” She sounds very stiff. “Your house looks… nice.”

Mickey blinks several times. “I… thanks.”

“We’ll be gone soon,” she says.

“Okay. You think you’ll find somewhere to live that quick?”

She shrugs defensively. “We’ll manage.”

“Well. Okay.” Mickey fakes a very unconvincing smile. “So goodnight.”

“Night,” she nods.

Mickey kind of wanders back into the bedroom, a little confused. He lies down with Ian then, scooting under the covers with Ian. Ian puts his arm over him. “What was that in the hall?” he asks.

“I have no fucking idea.” Mickey cuddles in closer to him. “Jesus. I want to live in a hole with you, forever, and do nothing.”

Ian kisses his cheek. “I know. Me too.”

“Is this being together?” Mickey asks very quietly. “I mean… long term.”

“The fuck would I know? I wasn’t exactly great at relationships before you.”

“Well, you kept picking married guys. That’s probably part of your problem, right there. Might want to stay away from them. Just a suggestion.”

“Fuck off. And it doesn’t count when you’re engaged to be married to me.” Ian flips him over and kisses him, one hand at his waist and the other holding his lips in place. “To me,” he repeats.

“Yeah, I know.” Mickey runs his fingers through Ian’s hair. “And to me. You’re engaged to me. You’re mine.”

Ian grins at him. “Yeah.”

“We should talk about getting you that ring you want,” Mickey says after a second. “Y’know. Soon. Been long enough.”

“I can make us an appointment at a jewelry store,” Ian says with a little smile. “We could do this right.”

“Do whatever you want to do,” Mickey mumbles awkwardly.

“Love you too,” Ian kisses him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Mickey actually believes him. “Okay.”

 

Charlie shows up the next day at the garage, looking a little nervous and very cold. “Shit, kid,” Mickey says immediately, and gets one of his jackets from the back of the office chair to put over his shoulders. “It’s like negative out there, dumbass, put on a coat.” That’s insensitive. He probably doesn’t have one, shit. But Charlie puts his arms through Mickey’s coat sleeves contentedly enough.

“How’s your wife?” he asks.

“Ex-wife. And I dunno. Good, I guess. You can come meet her if you want, she’s toned down the bitch.” When it’s silent for a while, Mickey glances up and realizes, “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry, that’s weird to say. Get me the oil for this.”

Charlie gets the oil and comes over to help him, but his fingers are obviously numb, so Mickey takes it from him and stops him, pushing him back from the car and over towards the heater. Charlie’s resisting, so Mickey has to keep nudging him, starting to smile when it kinda turns into a bit of a game. “C’mon, asswipe,” Mickey smiles. “You’re freezing, warm up, c’mon.”

“I’m okay,” Charlie says, but he cuddles into him instead of the heater anyways. Mickey has to hold up his hands to the heat and stay there with him at first.

“Don’t have a coat?” Mickey asks quietly.

“Not really.”

“Well, you wanna go to Goodwill after work? Ian’s working late today, we’ll grab you a coat. Can’t have you fucking freeze to death.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Nah, none of that. Not a big deal. You hungry? I gotcha some shit.”

Charlie shrugs. He’s too proud to ask for it, but when Mickey gets him a granola bar and a Gatorade, he eats it in about three seconds. It feels a lot like having a little brother, or maybe a kid. It’s nice, though. It’s actually great, seeing the kid’s face light up when they find a coat that fits, and Mickey gets him a hat and some gloves too just for the hell of it.

“Okay, dumbass?” Mickey says as they’re walking outside. “Don’t be stupid, just ask me for something if you need it. If it’s something like this, especially.”

“Alright.”

“Coming with me?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

Mickey lights a cigarette. “It’s fine. Long as you don’t mind meeting my kid.”

“What’s their name?”

“Yev. It’s some Russian shit, I dunno. His mom named him.”

“And why don’t you like him?”

“Nah, I like him fine. He’s a good kid, I guess. But he… I guess. He reminds me of some shit I really… I mean. I don’t want to remember it. And I’m his dad. I’m kicking ass if anyone tries to hurt him and I make sure he’s got a fucking coat, but sometimes…” He sucks in a deep breath and lets out a curl of smoke. “This is probably wrong. But sometimes he just makes me feel like I’m being attacked. Just by seeing him. And that’s my shit, not his, but I still can’t do…”

“Y’mean the kid scares you?” Charlie asks.

Mickey tries to be honest. “I guess, sometimes. Not him, but how… well, how he was… conceived.”

“Oh.” Charlie looks mildly disgusted.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I mean, it’s fine. I was just thinking, like… I mean you’re really nice to me. So I guess I was wondering why you weren’t as nice about him. But okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not gonna stop being nice to you,” Mickey says after a bit. “Just so you know.”

“Okay.” Charlie smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“Whatever. Come on.”

 

Charlie crashes on their bedroom floor that night, and Mickey’s suddenly so glad that Ian insisted on having twice as many blankets as they have beds. Charlie has a good setup on the floor, and they can keep watching TV after he goes to sleep.

Yev has been asleep in the guest room for a while, and Svetlana is in the middle of a loud phone conversation out on the balcony in Russian. Ian’s leaning against Mickey’s shoulder, feet on the coffee table. “Y’know, I have the week before Christmas off,” Ian says.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. School’s on break, so I am. I can decorate the house and everything.”

“Okay.” Mickey kisses his cheek. After a few moments of deliberation, he says, “Hey. Could you put up that silver and gold tinsel shit on the tree this year?”

“Sure, why?”

Mickey shrugs one shoulder. “Mom used to. Said they were spider webs the sun turned to gold, or something. I dunno, I just thought it might be nice.”

“Sure, babe, that’ll be good.”

Mickey nods. “Candy canes and shit,” he adds after a second. “So Charlie can have ‘em. Yev, I guess, if he…” He stops then, because he doesn’t know why he was picturing his kid and Svetlana here for Christmas. Shit.

“Yeah,” Ian says. “Yeah, definitely. Anything else?”

“Vodka,” Mickey murmurs after a moment. “We always did shots on Christmas. For good luck.”

“Okay. I can probably get some good shit from Kev.”

“Cool.” Mickey kisses his hair after a moment, very softly because he loves Ian so much, it feels like his heart’s swollen up like a bubble that might pop. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you too, Mick.” Ian squeezes his hand. “We doing presents this year?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Just making sure.

“I’m always gonna get you presents, Ian, even if I gotta steal them for you.”

Ian laughs at that, and scoots closer. He’s so dumb, he won’t wear a sweater and just hugs Mickey really tight. “Awesome,” he says. “Okay.”

“Put on a sweatshirt, dumbass,” Mickey tells him. “If you’re cold.”

“Why? That’s what fiancées are for,” Ian says. “You’re always warm, I want you to warm me up.”

“Could get a blanket at least,” Mickey mumbles, but he turns a little to let Ian snuggle closer against him. “What about you, Gallaghers do anything special you haven’t told me about?”

“Nah. Besides attempting to eat everything that exists? Not really. I mean, we’re technically Irish, but we aren’t Catholic. So. Nah. We’ve got tons of room to build our own traditions, yeah? Like maybe cookies. Can you make Christmas cookies? Do you know any recipes?”

“I don’t know. Mandy probably would, she’s got some of Mom’s stuff. Like maybe recipes. Why?”

“Always wanted to make tons of Christmas cookies. Sugar cookies and stuff.”

“Then we’ll figure it out. I’ll talk to Mandy. Maybe she can come over for Christmas, if Lip goes back to your family’s house.”

“Okay.”

Svetlana comes in then, cold air creeping in until after the door is shut. Ian cuddles closer. “Everything okay?” Mickey asks a little stiffly.

“Everything’s fine,” Svetlana snaps, going into her room for a while.

Mickey doesn’t say anything, and neither does Ian, thankfully. Though this turns out to be because he fell asleep on Mickey. He gets so sleepy sometimes, on his meds. Mickey turns to make him more comfortable and kisses his hair. “Dumbass,” he murmurs.

He makes it through whatever shitty show they’re watching and starts a new one anyways, just cuz the remote is out of reach.

“We need to talk,” Svetlana says from the hall.

“Okay.” Mickey isn’t even scared, with Ian snuggled against his chest. She looks kind of pitiful, too, without any makeup or slutty clothes. She’s skinny sitting there on the coffee table, and pale.

“How long can we stay here?”

“I dunno. We said like a week, right?”

“Okay.”

Mickey frowns a little. “You have somewhere to go when the week’s up?”

“I will.”

“Do you, though?”

She grits her teeth and doesn’t answer, which is pretty much all he needs. “Fuck,” he says. “Look. You have a job?”

“Yes, but it’s not enough for a place to live,” she says defensively.

“No, I know. I mean I figured. But I meant that if you help pay for food and shit, you can stay longer. Maybe till Christmas or something, right? The kid should be around family, probably. I mean, I gotta talk to Ian about it, but.”

She looks at him for a long time. “Why?”

“Because I’m going soft, alright? Cuz being engaged is making me a fucking pussy. What the fuck do you want to hear?” Mickey shrugs. “Y’interested or not? Cuz if you aren’t, it’d make this real fucking simple.”

Svetlana shrugs. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Tell me when to leave.”

“You’re a lot fucking better when you aren’t threatening to kill us, y’know,” Mickey says. He’s not sure if it’s going to be a joke until she smiles on accident and he can too. “Just saying,” he adds.

“Good to know.”

“Well.” He watches her for a second. “You do any Christmas tradition shit?” he asks. “With him?”

“Christmas Eve mass,” she says. “No meat on Christmas Eve, pork on Christmas day. He has not had spruce tree before.”

“Ian wants to do Christmas cookies,” Mickey says, unsure if this is going too far. “He wanted some ones from my family, but I don’t remember… there were rolled up little… like with this nut shit inside.”

“Kilfi,” Svetlana says like it should be obvious. “I can make them.”

“Oh. Okay. Show him how, he wants to make ‘em. I just don’t remember a lot. Think I blocked it all out or something.” He’s joking, but it doesn’t sound like it. “I think maybe there was special bread.”

“Braided,” she nods. “I can make that too. And borscht.”

“Oh that meat soup thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, that’s good.” They’re getting along. They’re smiling and compromising, and shit, he has to just say it. “Hey, though. I’m not out to fuck you over. Back before I was pretty pissed. And scared. So I said a lot of shit. And I didn’t mean most of it, alright?” he says, looking down at Ian’s sleeping face.

“And I did what I had to for my child,” she says. “Even if it was harsh.”

“Okay. Socould we maybe just… like, team up? We’re both gonna need a way out when Dad gets out again, and we got a kid. It just seems like, y’know.” Mickey shrugs. “We should cooperate.”

“Will be easier since you’re not cheating on me with a stripper,” she says, motioning at Ian. And it’s sarcastic but it’s a definite joke.

“Yeah. But the teacher thing is much sexier,” he says on accident.

Svetlana raises her eyebrows. “Good to know.”

He smiles a little. “Whatever. You staying up?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Make coffee if you want,” he says.

Ian wakes up then, tightening his arms and making little grumbly noises until Mickey wraps him up in his arms and kisses his hair. He feels uncomfortable with Svetlana watching, but Ian scoots closer, up his chest to kiss near his shoulder. “Hey babe,” Mickey says. “You okay?”

“’M cold.”

“Yeah you are, dumbass, I told you to get a blanket.”

Svetlana gets up and goes, then comes back with the last free blanket from their closet. She raises her eyebrows, and when Mickey nods, she puts it over Ian mostly, and a little over him. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly.

“Thanks,” Ian echoes into Mickey’s chest. “Love you.”

Mickey blushes deeply and glances to see if Svetlana saw. She’s walking away, so he kisses Ian’s hair again and says, “Love you too.”

Svetlana comes back with a cup of black coffee and sits back down on the coffee table. “What is this shit that you’re watching?” she says.

“I’m not sure. He likes TLC.” Mickey pets through Ian’s hair a little, smiling down at him. “You can change the channel, I don’t care. Just didn’t want to get up and move him.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does change the channel to watch Rocky. They watch the whole damn movie together. She finishes her mug of coffee off, and then when it’s over, Mickey nudges Ian. “Babe,” he says. “Time for bed, sleepyface, c’mon. Get up.”

Ian grumbles into his chest. “I _am_ asleep.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a bed. Come on.” Mickey kisses him to make him smile and then kind of bullies him to his feet. “G’night,” he says to Svetlana. “See ya in the morning.”

“Sure,” she says. “The child. Charlie. What does he like to eat?”

“Anything, he’s pretty flexible. Just a lot of it.”

Svetlana nods. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Mickey nods with a small smile. He gets Ian to bed then, pulling his jeans off of him and then changing into pajamas himself. That’s a new concept to him, pajamas. It’s kind of funny. Ian curls around him tightly as soon as he’s in bed, and makes some very disgruntled sounds. “It’s okay,” Mickey tells him, quietly because Charlie’s on the floor.

“Can we go to bed now?”

Mickey smiles. “Of course we can, beautiful.”

“What?” Ian perks up. “What was that? What’d you call me?”

“Called you beautiful,” Mickey mumbles, suddenly self-conscious. “Is that some kinda problem?”

“Nah, no problem. You’re saying nice things to me, no problem.” Ian cuddles back into his chest. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

“Hey,” Ian says after a second. “Did you… did I hear you talking to Svetlana? Out there on the couch?”

“Oh. Yeah. We can talk about it later, babe, we can sleep now.”

“Okay.” Ian snuggles up against Mickey’s chest and then grumbles, “Hand, hand. I want your hand.”

“You got it, dumbo.” Mickey kisses his cheek and holds hands with him as they fall asleep. Shit, everything feels so nice tonight. Talk about building up a family. Real ones are overrated. He likes this one.

 

The next morning, Mickey wakes up to Ian doing his usual pushups. He checks the clock really quick – it’s around nine, pretty late for Ian, but it’s the weekend. Mickey sits up and rubs his eyes.

“Hey babe,” Ian says, a little breathless. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” Mickey says. “How you feel?”

“Good.”

“Well, good. I’m gonna go check on Charlie.”

“Be out soon.”

Mickey leans down and pats Ian’s bare shoulder before walking out. Yev and Charlie in the kitchen, and Svetlana is cooking breakfast. “Shit,” Mickey says. “We get married again when I don’t remember?”

She flips him off but she’s definitely making him bacon and eggs, so he shuts up and pours a couple cups of coffee. He fixes Ian’s up for him, and then gets a bowl of fruit out of the fridge for Ian. He ruffles Charlie’s hair then while he takes his first sip of coffee. “Y’sleep good?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He sits next to Charlie then, and awkwardly waves at Yev. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hi.” Yev’s got syrup all over the lower half of his face. Mickey has to smile.

Svetlana takes the other seat. “I’m going shopping today for food,” she says. “What do you and carrot boy need?”

“Uh, Ian’s got a list on the side of the fridge, that stuff. Do you need cash?”

“No.”

“Okay. Well. I’ll be home, if you want to leave the kid here,” Mickey mumbles awkward. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she says after a second. “Thank you.”

“Sure, whatever. Not cleaning that syrup off him, though. That’ll be a bitch.”

She flips him off again, and he gets up to make himself a plate. Ian comes in then, still shirtless, and kisses his cheek, hugging him from behind. “Hey, got you coffee,” Mickey says, pointing.

“Thanks, baby.” Ian won’t stop kissing the side of his face.

“Lana’s going out for groceries, I said she could leave the kid here.”

“That’s fine.”

“And we were talking about her staying longer.”

“Okay. Can we talk about that after I eat?”

“Sure.”

Ian kisses him again, one last time. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Mmhmm. You want food?”

“Oh, you cook now?” Ian teases.

“Nah, Svetlana.”

“Well, thanks,” Ian says to her, sitting at the table. “Hey Charlie.”

“Hey.” Charlie is really demolishing toast and bacon right now. Mickey thinks he should ask what’s going on for him at home. “How long can I stay?” he asks.

“Uh, all day is fine, but we’re going present shopping tonight,” Ian says thoughtfully. “Unless you need to stay here.”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

Mickey glances at the table from the stove and tries his best not to smile. His patchwork family is all happy and eating and together. Ian looks so cute, too, and Mickey loves that in particular. Even Svetlana being here doesn’t suck. He just isn’t sure how the rest of his life is supposed to be any better than this.

Christmas is going to kick some serious ass this year.

 

Five days into Svetlana being here with them, Ian convinces Mickey to go to bed early and then sits him down on the bed and says, “We need to talk.”

“Okay…”

“I kind of orchestrated this for that purpose.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Mickey raises his eyebrows. “Serious shit?”

“Kind of.” Ian scratches the back of his neck. “Uh. What do you feel about your kid? How do you feel about him, I mean?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not sure how to act, and I’ll basically do whatever you want, because you’re the one with real authority here.”

“Well, how do you _want_ to act with him?”

“I dunno,” Ian shrugs. “I’m kinda not even sure if I should touch him.”

Mickey sighs, but mostly he just loves him for trying so hard. “God,” he says. “Uh, well. I don’t mind him. He’s just a kid, he didn’t have anything to do with… I mean. You can totally hold him and whatever. I’m just still figuring out… y’know. But I don’t mind him.”

“Y’sure?”

“Yeah. You love kids, I know you do. Don’t hold back anything, it’s totally cool.”

“Uh huh,” Ian says, regarding him with some suspicion. “And I’ve noticed you and Svetlana are getting along pretty well.”

“Yeah. Are you, like… jealous? Or.”

“No,” Ian says. “Definitely not. I’m past that. But I’m wondering about this sudden understanding. Did you…”

Mickey chews on his lip as he’s thinking. “Well, look. She was sixteen when all of that happened. She was a fucking kid, y’know. And we’re grown up now, I just thought maybe we could leave the hostility. And she agreed to it. That was the other night, when you fell asleep on me.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, so. I just…”

Ian takes both of Mickey’s hands after a long pause. “You are an extremely compassionate person. Your endless capability for compassion is really impressive to me and I love that about you. I’ll always back you up, I just need to know when to do what.”

“Right. Okay. Jesus,” Mickey mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Well. How would you feel about them staying a longer? Lana’s having trouble finding somewhere to live, and I thought maybe we could do Christmas stuff together. She knows how to do some Christmas cookie shit you were talking about, y’know? I just thought that might be nice.”

“Okay,” Ian hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I am. If you want it too, I mean, but.” Mickey looks up at him. “Do you want it?”

“I think… it might be oddly nice,” Ian says slowly. “But I want you to feel safe.”

“Babe, she made us breakfast. She’s staying out of our hair and she’s buying groceries. I don’t mind it. And I think… I think I’m getting some kinda fucking… perspective or something. She didn’t mean to do any of this to me. She’s got it really tough here. So I do feel safe, but I want her to be, too.”

Ian’s smiling. “Okay. Wow, that’s really impressive.” He pulls Mickey closer to hug him tight and says, “I still hate that she was involved, in that whole thing. But you’re right, it’s not her fault. Your dad probably would’ve killed her too.”

“Definitely would’ve, and wouldn’t think anything of it. He doesn’t think whores are worth anything. Or probably girls in general.” Mickey pulls back from Ian then, and leans over to get a cigarette. “But are you okay with that?” he asks. “Her staying.”

“In a weird way, she’s family,” Ian nods. “I don’t mind having her here if you don’t. And I definitely wouldn’t mind learning how to cook some stuff. Especially now that she knows you’re mine.”

Mickey smiles and gets up to smoke. He pulled a chair over by the window a few days ago, so he can sit there and smoke. Ian leans back against the headboard and texts someone. Mickey really likes this, how the two of them can part for a second when he needs time to process. Ian’s learned not to push, meds evening him out so he doesn’t feel like he needs to. Fuck, it’s good.

“I’d like to have a daughter,” Mickey says quietly. “Or a boy, but I’m just saying. I wouldn’t hate having a girl.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we could have kids in the next couple years, even. Before we get too old. And I think we could even stay in this house for a while.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Now you got nothing to say?”

Ian shrugs. “Just listening to you. You don’t plan like this usually. I’m interested, keep going if you want.”

Mickey looks back out the window. “We haven’t been able to, but as soon as we can I want you to fuck the shit outta me.”

That makes Ian laugh, just like he wanted. “Good plan. I promise.”

“Hey,” Mickey says after a second. “You think Mandy would have a baby for us? I mean you’d have to fuck her.”

Ian wrinkles his nose. “Well. I’d do it if she would.”

“That baby would be pale as fuck,” Mickey says. “Think he’d have red hair? Mom was blonde, that might…”

“She was?” Ian frowns.

“Yeah. Something wrong with that?”

“No, you just… never talk about your mom. Like ever.”

“Turning over a new fucking leaf, then, aren’t I.” Mickey shrugs. “That Molly, remember? Half-sister. She had that blonde hair.”

“Don’t remember. Maybe that was while I was gone. But you’d love that, wouldn’t you. Little redhead baby,” Ian smiles at him.

“Fuck yeah I would, that’d be cute as fuck.”

“I’ll ask her,” Ian says. “You’ll just get awkward and blurt it out.”

“Oh yeah. Cuz it’s not awkward at all to ask your sister to bang your fiancée and have his kid,” Mickey says sarcastically, and Ian laughs again.

“Well. I won’t put it that way.”

“Aren’t a whole lotta other ways to put it.” Mickey finishes his cigarette, stubs it out and crawls back in bed with Ian. “She and me are pretty alike, anyways. And I don’t think either of your sisters would really be up for it.”

“Right. Maybe we could adopt, though, if we have to.”

Mickey shrugs. “Whatever. But you’re okay with everything?”

“Yeah. Definitely, yes.” Ian wraps his arm around him.

“Y’know, she was helping me,” Mickey says after a moment. “About, uh. Cuz my family used to do stuff, y’know, when I was a kid, but I don’t remember. I think I blocked it out, maybe? And she was helping me with that. She’s gonna make this braided bread thing, I think we had. So.”

“That’s good.” Ian kisses his hair. “Why, though, do you think you blocked things out?”

“I know things weren’t good with my parents. Don’t have to remember to figure that out. So I think… fuck, I don’t know. She died when I was eleven, twelve? And before that, it’s kind of a blank.”

Ian pulls him closer. “Yeah?”

“Yep. Or fuck, maybe I haven’t tried hard enough. I don’t know. That’s why I don’t talk about it, though. That’s part of why.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me, babe. I appreciate it.” Ian kisses him.

“Nah, barely told you shit,” Mickey mumbles. “I’ll have more. But no kid wants to remember their mom getting raped and beat, probably. So. Fuck, maybe it’s blocked out for a reason.”

“Well. Don’t unblock it on my account,” Ian murmurs, rubbing Mickey’s arm. “I’m sorry. I bet she was really nice.”

“Sure, when she had enough crack.”

Ian sits back and looks at him. “Mick.”

Mickey shrugs.

“Okay,” Ian says after a second. “We won’t talk about it.”

“Well, what’s there to talk about?”

Ian stares at him. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve somehow neglected to mention throughout six years of us being officially, definitely together that your mom was a crack addict.”

“Look,” Mickey says. “It’s not a big deal, she’s been dead for more than a decade. I don’t like talking about her, why is that…”

“You don’t have to like talking about her, or want to tell me. But Jesus, that just feels like something I should know before six years. Six and a half, really,” Ian adds, trying to joke a little.

“Is that part of the deal? Is there a fucking… list of shit I’m supposed to have told you by now? Do I get points off for not telling you by now?”

“No, Mickey, don’t be an asshole. You know what I mean.”

Mickey sighs very deeply and pulls his knees up to his chest. “The fuck,” he sighs. “Yeah, I guess. She was a crack addict. Mandy looks just like her. Don’t know how she died, but I think Dad probably killed her.”

“Shit.”

“As far as everything else…” Mickey runs his hand over his face to think. “I don’t know if I haven’t told you something. I’m trying to think.”

Ian stays quiet and picks at the bedspread.

“Broke my arm three times,” Mickey finally says. “Hadn’t kissed anybody until you. Got my GED the year after I dropped out.”

“Wait, stop. I was your first kiss?”

“Yeah,” Mickey frowns.

Ian kisses him hard, and then very gently. “I thought you were just avoiding me,” he says. “I thought… I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“How could you? It’s totally cool, don’t worry about it.”

“I feel bad, though. I should’ve known, I feel like I was pushing you too much,” Ian says. “I’m serious, I’m sorry. It should’ve been your choice.”

“Ian, it was. I chose to kiss you. And even though I got shot in the ass, I still liked the kiss. Really liked it. Okay? Don’t freak out.” Mickey kisses his cheek. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

“Okay.” Ian lets out his breath. “Congrats on the GED.”

“Whatever. I’m thinking of more shit, hold on.” Mickey leans against Ian a little then, putting his head on his shoulder. “I did fuck somebody else before. First time in juvie, but hadn’t taken it before. Or since with anybody. I think you’re my best friend. I’d have a lot of kids with you, if you wanted. Gallagher levels of kids. Kinda planning on it, actually.”

Ian giggles, turning to kiss him happily. “Yes to all of those things.”

“We could get a bigass house that’s falling apart, fix it up,” Mickey murmurs. “Let anybody stay with us who wants to. Cuz I kind of like that.”

“Me too.”

Mickey takes Ian’s hand and laces their fingers together on the bed between them. “I’m Ukrainian,” he says. “One hundred percent. Did you know that? It’s why me and Lana have so much in common, about Christmas and shit.”

“Can you speak it?”

“Nah. She’s teaching the kid, though.”

“Cool.”

Mickey ends up rubbing Ian’s hand with his thumb, thinking. God, he loves Ian so much. “When you left,” he says quietly. “For the army, when you left me. I was lost. Which, we don’t really talk about it, but I think you should know.”

“I’m sorry,” Ian says.

“I know. I just thought you should know. You’ve told me everything about Basic and shit. So. Yeah. I was… I had a picture of you. All I had. And I couldn’t find anything else that really mattered besides you. You not being there. So.”

Ian kisses him. “You didn’t have to tell me that,” he says. “I already know. I fucking love you.”

“Fucking love you too, obviously.” Mickey squeezes his hand. “I’ll tell you if I think of anything else, alright?”

“Okay.”

“You want anything? I’m gonna have some coffee.”

“Nah, I’m good. How’s Charlie?”

“He says he’s good. I dunno. What do you think about him spending Christmas with us? I don’t know if he’d have anything otherwise.”

“Sure,” Ian smiles. “I was obviously expecting that to happen before now, but I appreciate you asking. Was starting to wonder if he’d just show up. Trying to think up ways to buy him a present without letting you know.”

“Okay, fuck you. I’m still figuring this out,” Mickey smiles. “We should though. If you don’t mind.”

“What do you want to get him?”

“I don’t know. A good fucking knife, but that’s probably…”

Ian snickers a little. “Yeah, I’m gonna veto the knife idea.”

“How about money?”

“We’ll think more,” Ian says. “I have your present, y’know.”

“Me too. But I think we should get Svetlana something.”

“Go for it,” Ian says. “I’ll get Yev’s.”

“Okay. I got you a couple things, y’know,” Mickey adds.

“Oh, so did I.”

“Awesome.”

Ian kisses him and says, “Babe. Dinner tomorrow, pizza alright? I’m getting home early, but I want to give Lana a break from the whole maid routine. Y’know, you and her have that in common, being obsessed with earning your keep somewhere.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever,” Ian echoes. “Can we get the Christmas tree this weekend?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll take a truck for it.” Mickey is pretty content to just snuggle against Ian for the rest of forever.

“You want a blowjob?” Ian asks after a bit.

“Door locked?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ian’s already pulling Mickey’s waistband down. He sucks his dick with expert grace, with all the teasing pressure that makes Mickey feel best and come hardest. Mickey turns him then, straddles him and grinds against Ian’s cock until he comes. He does it kind of because Ian always gets so grumpy when he has to change his boxers, and that’s the most adorable thing ever.

“Goddamn, Mickey,” Ian sighs, sure enough. “Why do you always do this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mickey settles in against his pillow and giggles at Ian’s discomfort. “Sorry.”

“Ah-HA!” Ian points dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah. Fucking sue me. And then c’mere and make out with me.”

“Well, I guess if you’re making demands now.”

 

It’s starting to feel like a new routine, with Charlie, Svetlana, and Yev. Ian and Mickey have slightly less room on the couch, but Svetlana’s really funny when they’re watching sitcoms and Charlie doesn’t mind when Yev tries to explain to him a drawing, even if it’s in Russian. Ian’s usually grading, and today Mickey is checking their finances. “Hey, babe, what’s this?” he asks, “Two thirteen, was that gas and electric?”

“Yep.”

The doorbell rings, and Mickey looks at Svetlana. “Not for me,” she says.

“I’ve got it.” Ian hops up and answers the door. It takes Mickey a minute to realize that something’s really fucking wrong, that Ian’s talking quietly with anger. Mickey stands up then, walks just enough steps to see that it’s that fucking pussy of a storeowner, that Kash guy.

“Mickey?” Charlie begins.

“Stay where you are, keep Yev there.” Mickey goes to his room, grabs the brass knuckles out of his top drawer, and slips them on as he walks back to the front door.

Ian, bless his soul, has already punched the guy right the fuck in his face. He doesn’t see Mickey coming until Mickey says, “I’ve got it.” His first punch knocks Kash down off their front porch.

“Wait, Mickey,” Ian says, pulling him back. “No.”

“He took advantage of you,” Mickey says. “He shot me in the Goddamn leg cuz he couldn’t stand you having sex with someone your own age, and then he fucking left you and I’m gonna punch his fucking face in, if you’ll just let go of my motherfucking hand.”

Ian kisses him, of all things, and says. “Don’t kill him.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Lemme go now?”

Ian lets go, and Mickey goes back outside, grabs the fucking guy who’s trying to get back to his car and punches the fuck out of him. He’s careful about it, because he’s not going to commit any murders today. But he is going to break his face in a couple places, snaps a rib and breaks an ankle with audible snap. Then he sits on top of him, holds his head steady and says, “Listen here, fucktard. Are you listening?”

“Yes!” the guy shrieks.

“Yeah, you’re fucking listening. You come back to the South Side again, I’m gonna dent your skull in, God as my witness. You’ll be eating through a straw the rest of your life. Am I clear?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s right. Because here’s the fucking deal. No real grown man fucks a kid. It kinda takes priority over the whole shooting me in the leg thing, but I haven’t forgotten that shit either, y’understand? I ever see you again, it’ll be the last time you walk. Stay away from my family.”

“Okay.”

“Am I clear?”

“Yeah.”

Just for the hell of it, Mickey goes through the guy’s wallet. He takes the hundred or so bucks in there and takes his driver’s license and says, “Fucking pedophile. Don’t come anywhere near here again.” He stands there, on the bloody snow in the front lawn, and watches Kash struggle to his car. Mickey flips him off as he drives away, and only after that allows himself to wince. He punched so hard the brass knuckles dug bloody lines in his fingers, and his actual knuckles don’t feel too solid either.

“Jesus Christ,” Ian says when he sees him. “Sit down, dumbass, now that you’re done waving your dick at my ex.”

“He’s an asshole that statutory raped you and he can go fuck himself,” Mickey mumbles, but he sits down on the couch and takes a deep breath. Svetlana sits next to him and hands him a bag of frozen corn. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly.

Ian comes from the bathroom with their first aid kit. “Technically-“ he begins.

“Let’s not get into fucking technicalities with kids in the room, Gallagher, eh?” Mickey says, voice tight from the ice against his hand. “He’s hurt you and it won’t happen again. End of story. Nobody’s getting fucking hurt in this house.”

Ian sits on the coffee table in front of Mickey and cleans off his knuckles with small exasperated glances but he doesn’t seem actually mad. He gets out the bandaids and Mickey pulls his hand away. “Nah, I’m fine,” he says. “Thanks.”

Ian takes his hand again anyways, and kisses the sticky blood. “Dumbass,” he says again, firmly. “But thank you.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t take after him,” Ian tells Charlie. “Brass knuckles are not an effective way of handling-“

“Brass knuckles are Goddamn great for pedophiles,” Mickey cuts in.

Ian sighs at him and Mickey sarcastically imitates him and flips him off. “You’re disgusting,” Svetlana scolds them, but she seems pretty unconcerned. She’s drinking a beer, feet up.

“So just to be clear,” Charlie begins. “Where are we on brass knuckles?”

Mickey laughs accidentally, and then Ian laughs, and even Svetlana is hiding a giggle in her beer bottle. Ian pulls him closer, and Mickey leans his forehead on Ian’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” he says. “Nothing changes.”

“Everything changes,” Ian corrects him. “Thanks, though, really.”

Mickey accepts a kiss from him and shakes his hand out a bit. “Fuck, I’m out of practice,” he murmurs. “Shit.”

“Scoot over,” Ian says, and Mickey moves over to the middle to let Ian sit on his right. He’s between him and Svetlana, and shit, he can’t say he minds it at all.

“Hey,” Mickey says after a second. “But fuck, if anyone like that comes for anyone else here, I’ll do it again. Understand?”

Lana nudges his leg with her foot, and Charlie says, “Okay.”

Ian cuddles him the rest of the night with particular intensity then, kissing his hair whenever he feels like it and being real sweet about it. Mickey loves it. Totally worth the bloody knuckles.

After pizza and finishing the bills, Mickey falls asleep on Ian’s shoulder. That’s something even now, for him to sleep with everyone just around. So he does wake up when Ian gets up, whispering about taking Yev and Charlie to bed.

It’s confusing, though, because Ian doesn’t sit back down again before someone’s fingers are in his hair. Mickey’s starts to try to sit up. “Shh,” Svetlana murmurs. “It’s alright.”

He’s suspicious, but he doesn’t open his eyes or move. He waits, to see what she’s going to do. And she just keeps smoothing down his hair. She’s got thin fingers, very cold. He has a half-formed though about that being because she’s Russian. “I truly appreciate everything you have done,” she says quietly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

“Strong man,” she says, in a little teasing voice that sounds a lot like how Ian talks to him. “The Arab was disgusting. He came to Sasha’s and would make a girl pretend to be his wife and fuck him up his ass.”

“Jesus.”

“Disgusting,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

She rests her arm on top of his head, and when he cracks his eye to glare at her, she grins. “Still a pussy,” she says, with a tone that implies the opposite.

“Still a fucking bitch,” Mickey mumbles.

“All talk,” she sighs.

Mickey grunts and she leaves him be. Ian’s back soon enough, hugging him and kissing him and pulling him into his lap to double his arms around his waist. “Well I’m fucking awake now,” Mickey rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ.” He kisses Ian’s cheek and snuggles in sideways against his chest. “I already beat someone up for you, leave me alone,” he mumbles.

“Sure,” Ian says, kissing his temple. “Take a rest, tough guy.”

He knows, he _knows_ Svetlana isn’t his wife. He remembers his hatred of her burning a hole in his stomach, and he meant it. But she feels like another piece of this thing they’re building, Ian and him. So he settles into Ian’s lap and he has to admit he doesn’t feel anything but safe.

 

It’s increasingly common for Mickey to come home to Ian and Svetlana bent over the stove, trays of cookies cooling on the table. They keep getting better, and Mickey’s pretty sure he’s going to gain about fifty pounds before Christmas actually comes. Charlie eats approximately half of all of them – he could use the weight, though, so nobody stops him.

They cook him dinner together, then, one night when Charlie goes home on his own and it’s sweet, fuck. Svetlana does a test-run on the borscht and Ian makes grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it. Ian welcomes Mickey home with a kiss and a hug, and Lana even pats his back awkwardly. He feels weird. It’s too nice. He loves it too much.

“We should talk,” he says when Yev’s run off to watch a movie. “All of us,” he adds when Svetlana starts to stand.

“About my leaving?” she says.

“Well. Kind of. I talked to Mandy, and she wants to move back here. She wants a place, but she can’t afford one on her own. She wants to be close, and I don’t think you’d mind it,” Mickey says, all at once until he runs out of motivation.

“The house next door is still open,” Ian says, immediately catching on.

“You want me to live with your sister?” Svetlana asks to be sure.

“Yeah, I mean. Neither of you will fuck each other up. She won’t be a bad influence on the kid. And then we can do shit like Christmas together more. If you guys want, I dunno.”

Ian smiles, thank God. “That sounds like it would be really nice,” he says. “I’d love to have Mandy close, too.”

Lana’s face is blank. “What does your sister think?”

“She’s fine with it. Long as you can pay your half.” Mickey shrugs.

“You’re telling me you would choose to have me so close?” she says to Mickey directly. “After everything.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says after a second. “Sure. This hasn’t been bad. And I don’t really want to leave you with the kid like that. Y’know, if you can be next door that would be… we could watch him. Or whatever. Do I really need to sell you on this?”

“I don’t want to be resented,” she says.

“Well I won’t. I want you around. Just in my house full time is a little too much. I’d like a little more privacy. But yeah, I mean… yeah.” He glances at Ian to make sure they’re on the same page. “Right?”

“Sure,” Ian says. “Yeah, that would be fun. It’s always good to have a couple extra friends around.”

“Really,” Mickey says. “I’d like it.”

She still looks unsure, but Mickey thinks he understands that. They’re cut from the same piece of whatever. Their personalities are the same, and he thinks he understands her reluctance. But fuck, he’s not sure how to tell her he trusts her without saying it fucking outright. “Think about it,” he says. “It’s a good place. For kids, and for you. No thugs trying to steal from us. And when Dad finally gets out of jail, we’ll be together to deal with it.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright.” Mickey stands, and Ian too.

“We’ve got the dishes,” Ian says, which he then uses as an excuse to hug Mickey at the sink and make out with him. “Your dad,” Ian begins.

“No. We’re not doing this,” Mickey says firmly. “But if he ever shows up, you and Lana have to run with Yev. I’m not fucking around.”

“Me neither, because I’m not going anywhere. He’ll kill you. We’re taking him on together or you’re running too. I’m not going anywhere without you,” Ian says. “But it’s nice you want to take care of Svetlana.”

“Thanks.”

Ian kisses him again. “Wouldn’t mind her around, though, for real. She cooks like a champ.”

Mickey rolls his eyes but kisses him anyways. “You’re dumb,” he says.

“Shut up, _you_ are.”

“Get out of here,” Mickey pokes his cheek. “I love you.”

Ian grins in surprise. “I love you too. I think it’d be funny to have Lana and Mandy as our Kev and Veronica.”

“I guess.”

“You’re awesome,” Ian kisses him one last time. “And you’ve got a great way of working out everything shitty to be good for us. There’s no one I’d rather be with.” He rubs his thumb over Mickey’s half-healed knuckles.

“Me neither,” Mickey says. “You’re hot as hell.”

Ian giggles and asks, “Will you ever stop being a teenager?”

“Says the kid who’s best retort was ‘shut up’ about three seconds ago.”

Mickey doesn’t mind, though. Growing up is overrated. He’d rather have Ian.

 

The day before Christmas Eve, it finally happens. Charlie shows up beaten. He’s been bruised before, but never hurt like this. And he’s always hidden after beatings, not come to them. This is important.

Mickey and Ian are in their bedroom, wrapping presents when Svetlana knocks on the door. “Yeah, come in” Ian says.

“Charlie,” she says. “The boy is hurt.”

Mickey’s already getting up, grateful to see Ian is quick to his feet too. “Ian, first aid kit,” he says.

“Yeah, already on it.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Mickey says, soft so Charlie doesn’t hear him.

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t talk,” Svetlana says, sounding frustrated.

“Alright.”

Mickey walks out to the living room, finds Charlie in the kitchen, probably so he doesn’t bleed on the carpet. And he is bleeding, holding his arm against his chest. His hoodie sleeve is soaked through with blood, probably his coat too, but it’s over the back of a chair so he can’t see. Charlie looks up when Mickey comes in and then down again, but Mickey’s already seen his face, the huge bruise on his temple and side of his face

“Shit,” he says. “The fuck happened to you?”

“I dunno,” Charlie says, his voice barely a rasp.

Mickey comes closer and stands next to him, watching how Charlie tries to hide his face. “Hey,” he says. “How ‘m I supposed to help you if you won’t even let me look at you? Lemme see your arm.”

Charlie doesn’t move, but he doesn’t stop Mickey from pulling his hoodie off of him and taking a closer look at his arm. He’s got scratches and scrapes, all in the same general direction, diagonal up his arm, and they’re dripping blood.

“Let me see,” Mickey says. “What else. Come on.” He nudges Charlie’s shoulder gently when he doesn’t answer. “Lemme Goddamn see, kid, c’mon. Or would you like to bleed out on my kitchen floor?”

Charlie pulls up his T-shirt sleeve to show a dark bruise on his shoulder, too, and then he just starts shaking, all over shudders. Mickey knows that moment of relief, when the horror is over and the adrenaline drains out of your veins. Mickey gets him a beer. “Drink it all,” he says. “Are you dizzy?”

Charlie nods, sipping.

“How hard did you hit your head?”

“Dunno.”

Ian comes in then, keeping a pretty badass straight face when he sees Charlie. “Lana’s getting towels,” he says. He has a wet rag that he presses over the worst of Charlie’s bleeding. He’s very quiet, thank God, because Charlie looks like he might spook and run.

He’s not talking, so Mickey tries something else. He talks around him. “Y’know Mandy has sewed me up before.”

“No way,” Ian frowns. “Why?”

“Cuz the hospital was too far away and I was bleeding out. My leg.” Mickey motions. “She cut them out a few weeks later too. It was fucking uncomfortable.”

“Yeah? Another bar fight?” Ian teases.

“Nah. Dad slit me open with a hunting knife. It was an accident.”

Ian presses his lips together tight and glances up at him. “Was it?”

“Well. In a way.”

It’s quiet for a bit until Svetlana comes in. She wets one towel at the sink and gives it to Ian. The others go on the table, and she sits down and just watches the three of them. Ian cleans off Charlie’s arm and bandages it, and Mickey stands behind Charlie and puts his hand on his shoulder. “You’ve probably got a concussion,” Mickey tells him.

“Probably.”

Ian smiles up at him. “Jesus. Two peas in a pod.”

“Whatever, fix his arm so he can sleep. He looks tired.”

So Ian wraps up Charlie’s arm and cleans the blood off the rest of him, gives him a towel to dry off his face. Mickey pretends not to notice how his hands are shaking, just says to Ian, “Hey, I’ll set him up on the couch. You can go and finish the presents.”

“Okay.” Ian leans over to kiss him. “G’night.”

“Night.”

Svetlana leaves too, and Mickey awkwardly waves at her. Then he says to Charlie, “Hey. C’mon. Stand up.”

Charlie does so on shaky legs. Mickey helps him over to the couch and brings him blankets and a pillow. “You think you can sleep now?” he asks.

“Dunno.”

“You want to watch something?”

Charlie shrugs, but when Mickey goes to get up, he says, “Don’t go?”

“Okay.” So Mickey sits on the couch with him and watches something. Charlie’s not paying attention, eyes blank, but Mickey stays until the end of the show before he starts to get up.

“No,” Charlie says, half frantic. “Please.”

“Why? Don’t want to sleep?”

“Can’t,” Charlie barely manages.

He hasn’t said more than two words together all night, still hasn’t stopped shaking either. Mickey wants to stay as long as Charlie wants, but he kind of can tell that what he wants is all night. So Mickey says, “Okay. Get up. C’mon. Get _up_ ,” he prompts when Charlie doesn’t move. “Come with me,” he says. “Bring your blankets.”

He leads Charlie back to his and Ian’s room and sits him on the bed. Ian watches from his side silently as Mickey puts down his pillow. “You can sleep here,” he says. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great.” Mickey climbs in the middle and links his arm with Ian’s to lean against his shoulder. “Remember Kite Runner?” he asks after a bit of empty silence. Ian’s book reminded him.

Ian frowns. “Not really.”

“You read it while you were manic. Before we knew what that was.”

“Figures you would remember, though.”

Mickey smiles at him a little, and settles in. Ian kisses his hair and keeps reading. He’s not keeping an eye on Charlie outright but he definitely, definitely is. Charlie’s on his side, facing away from them, so Mickey gets to kinda stare for a while. He’s not sleeping, but he’s pretending to. “Do you mind?” he asks Ian quietly. “Fuck, I keep doing things and not asking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Okay.” Mickey kisses his shoulder. Fuck, that still feels unusual to him, kissing somewhere else besides Ian’s lips, but Ian always smiles and Mickey has to smile with him. “Hey, you still talk to guys from your club?”

“Yeah.”

“They okay?”

“Yeah, they’re doing good. Christmas is usually pretty busy.”

“Yeah, I remember. Didn’t like that one bit.”

Ian snorts. “I know. You told me that loud. And repeatedly.”

Mickey kisses his cheek. “Fuck off.”

“So the tree is done,” Ian murmurs after a bit. “Tree done, presents under it. We’ve got all the food for dinner tomorrow, family’s around and Mandy’s coming too. It’s nice.”

“What is?”

“Having everything done. I’m used to having a Gallagher Christmas. Thrown together last minute, no presents that weren’t gotten the day before. Pizza rolls, one year, and I know Fiona was doing her best, but I like it better this way. Prepared. And relaxed.”

“Okay. Then we’ll do it this way every year.”

Ian sighs deeply. “That’d be lovely.”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be fine. Tree looks perfect, anyways. Maybe just less cookies next year, y’think? Twelve dozen is too many.”

“Whatever,” Ian teases. “Maybe.”

Mickey sighs deep then, and cuddles up closer. “Jesus Christ, Ian, when did we get so boring? Cookies and Christmas shit.”

“I dunno. Don’t mind it, though, after everything.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay.” Ian tilts his head against Mickey’s for a second. “Though we need to recognize that you did recently beat the shit out of my ex with brass knuckles, so it’s not like we’re respectable or anything.”

“I will _never_ be respectable,” Mickey promises, and Ian laughs.

“Nah, I know,” he says. “You’re just tamed, not domesticated.”

“You’re so weird,” Mickey says with no venom. He pets Ian’s hair. “C’mon, sleep. We’re doing a lot of shit tomorrow.”

“Okay, darling.” Ian finishes his page and closes the book. He sets it on the nightstand and turns off his light. He gets up then, and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and stuff. Mickey goes after him, so Charlie’s not alone. Ian holds up the blankets for him, and hugs him from behind when they’re both lying down. “You’re pretty,” he says.

“Shut up, dumbass.”

“Pretty _mean_ ,” Ian corrects, and Mickey just rolls his eyes.

“Go to sleep. You’re the worst person to sleep with.”

“I am not, and you know it and shut up.”

“Real mature.” Mickey takes Ian’s hand and holds it close near his heart. He thinks he can feel Ian’s question in his embrace, about Charlie being here, but he doesn’t ask. The level of fucking trust between them blows his mind every day. So maybe it’s best that he can’t talk without Charlie hearing. He doesn’t know what he’d say.

 

Ian wakes him up. Mickey grumbles inarticulately for a bit, but he cheers up when Ian kisses him. “Babe,” Ian says.

“What,” Mickey sighs. He likes the way Ian’s holding him, big hands on his sides and hips. “What?” he asks with more interest.

“Why did Charlie spend the night with us in bed? Also, Merry Christmas Eve.”

Mickey smiles and kisses him. “Okay.”

“Mick, why?” Ian presses.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you have Charlie in here?”

Mickey shrugs. “He was scared.”

“He said that?”

“Nah, he didn’t say anything. I could just tell.” Mickey chews on his lip for a second. “Cuz I think sometimes you just want to know there’s someone else there in the night.”

“Yeah?” Ian frowns a little.

“Yeah. Mandy and me had each other. So.” Mickey opens his eyes all the way then, and smiles at Ian. “Okay?”

“Okay, yeah definitely. Thank you.” Ian kisses him again. “Good morning, by the way. Merry Christmas Eve. I think Lana’s making pancakes.”

“I want bacon.”

“No meat,” Ian reminds him. “She asked just for that.”

Mickey groans but he did agree to that, so he kisses him and says, “Fine. C’mon, lemme up.”

Ian sits back on his heels and says, “Tell me what to do with Charlie. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“That’s a first,” Mickey pokes him in his ribs. He pulls him back down onto the bed, though, when Ian starts to leave. “Hey, I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” Ian smiles. “Isn’t that great?”


End file.
